The Caged Bird
by Five-Blues
Summary: He knelt down and grabbed her jaw, digging in his fingers. "I'll admit, I had not expected you to live this long. You are surprisingly resilient, moreso than I gave you credit for. Let us see if your resilience allows you to outlive your fellow volunteers . . . it's your turn for the Experiment now, Volunteer Seventy-Eight."
1. Prologue

The trees were bare and covered in a thin layer of frost. The sea of trees on the rolling mountains had dropped all their fall leaves and were now barren and the ground dull.

In a valley between two bulging mountains sat an old broken down town on top of a hill: Zebreva. The Sokovian city that had its spirit broken and now carried on day after day, cracked and barely clinging on to life.

Old waterlogged posters about fighting America drifted around on the cobblestone streets while the dead leaves danced and swirled in circles.

Large cracks interrupted the now dulled paintings that covered the side of apartment buildings. The bright cloudless sky caused the buildings shadows to stretch thin and long across the empty outskirts of the Sokovian streets.

Beginning from the deserted outskirts all the way to the city centre were two constants: litter and debris.

As the streets began to narrow and wind the closer you got to the heart of the city, the sounds became louder. The echoing sounds that leapt and jump and rose off the walls: the angry shouts of a Sokovian city finally done with the powerlessness they faced everyday.

The powerlessness they faced in looking at each other's dull eyes in lost faces. The powerless they saw in the debris left from war, a war they had had no chance in winning and a war they had never wanted to enter in the first place. They saw powerlessness in the deficit of their buildings.

But something has changed the past year. An electric undercurrent that sparked and nipped at the people. They had had enough of the powerlessness. They wanted change. They wanted power. They wanted revenge.

And none wanted change more than the Maximova twins. It was what had drawn Romina Zuitev far over the Romanian border and right into the heart of Zebreva where the twins lived.

But Romina didn't want change. For nothing could change the fact that her brother was dead, burned in the fire on the American embassy in Romania by the nameless terrorist group from Sokovia.

From the second the first sparked flared up and sent a frenzy of heat that ate up and destroyed everything in its path Romina knew who had lit it.

The twins from the nameless group her brother had hated so much, and by proxy, her. They had declared war on Romania the second they had crossed her borders. But it hadn't been Romanians they were after, it had been the Americans; nonetheless they had still invaded Rominas homeland.

A century ago the Sokovians had fought for independence, and now they dared to cross the border back again. Romina shook her head in disdain at the irony.

No, Romina didn't want change. She wanted to finish what her brother couldn't do. Kill the twins.

She had never taken anyone's life before, but after her brothers had been taken, the last person she had loved had left her, something insider her had snapped. No, not snapped. Disappeared.

In its place, anger came, a constant burn that altered between rising and soaring and burning everything in its path, to the sparkling cracks of embers. But it was always there. She'd avenge Mikael. It was all she had left now.

And now she stood at the edge of the large crowd, feeling their pulsating anger, more toxic than the venom of a snake. Yells and screams rose in waves while the chants of change remained constant. There was a flurry of constant colours moving around as people pushed forwards and backwards and moved around, fists raised high in the air.

This time was different, all of them knew, including Romina. They were no longer screaming at the retreating backs of those they had thought loyal to them. This time there was someone to help them with change, someone who wasn't going to turn their backs and leave them. An international group called Shield. And they had soldiers, all dressed in black lining the streets with heavy guns in their hands, observing the crowd through masks as dark as night.

Up on a podium stood two camera men and two of the leaders. Romina had heard about them but never seen them before until now.

One of them she had learned just a few moment ago called himself The Baron. It was utterly pretentious. But she knew people disregarded ridiculous reasoning in their need for vengeance, and so they accepted this man with his mysterious name.

Then there was the other one, Malick. He was much older than his counter part and his wisdom and gathering of life long experience was written in his arrogant slouch and the way his hands rested loosely in his pants pockets as he gazed over the crowd.

Something in the way his eyes slid over the Sokovians had Romina feeling distrustful. She wondered if the cities citizens saw it too but decided to ignore it - or perhaps they didn't see it at all, too wrapped up in each other's emotions.

But she didn't care for the two men, or what they were trying to say. She cared for the twins. With a huff of frustration at being unable to spot them in the crowd she turn around and stalked forwards. Taking the stone church steps worn smooth through the years she stood at the top, hand to her forehead as she blocked out the sharp suns midday rays.

A feeling of hopelessness began to grip at her heart as she saw where they stood: all the way up front, leading the crowd.

Of course they were, the two biggest nationalists would be front and centre. She had heard horrifying stories about the state of Sokovian prisons. Little food, cruel guards, little chance of ever getting out. But Romina wasn't afraid to get caught after taking at least one twin out.

She was afraid she wouldn't be able to get to them at all. The crowd was volatile and they were all desperate to be up front, as close to the two men on the podium as possible, and as close to the ones they called their leaders. It was turning into a riot. And riots were chaos; Romina didn't work under chaos, she worked under order. Precise and meticulous.

Even with shoves and harsh hits to their sides with elbows, there was little chance she'd be able to get close enough to either Pietro or Wanda.

Her ears perked up as she listened to the booming voice of The Baron's translator. Still Romina couldn't understand how easily they trusted this man - he couldn't even speak their language, yet here they all were gathering around. Typical Sokovians, she thought, following anyone like the sheep they are.

Their voices grew hushed as they listened to the translator. Sokovian wasn't Rominas first language, their grammar was warped and their accent different from Romanian, but it was just similar enough she could understand the translator for The Baron.

". . . You have all been wronged! Everyone thinks you were weak, that you are insignificant, that you are easily overpowered. But I've seen you, all of you. Every single one of you are strong. You fought for independence a hundred years ago and won! The blood of fighters still runs hot through your veins. Will you accept your enemies treatment or will you fight back? You are fighters and loyal to your people, your brothers and sisters. Look around at the people who stand with you now.

They are all fighters, but they are all just human - though with the heart of hero's. You have all seen the Avengers, who hold all the power that you do not have. You have seen the Man of Iron, the Stark man who tried to take away the glory of Sokovia, of Zebreva. These men soaring through the town, wrecking havoc, with no one to stop them." The translator roared in anger, his voice as passionate and heated as The Barons. Romina assumed as he Sokovian, perhaps from this very town himself. The town was whipped up into a frenzy, but still they managed to hang on to his every word.

The Baron paused for effect and the people leaned in, and at his next few words chaos erupted again. "What if you were given the chance to be as powerful as the Avengers? To help build your city to its former glory, to save your brothers and sisters and be their protector? Would you take it?!" He yelled, spittle flying as his arms raised in the air.

The riot turned full blown and the crowd pushed and shoved against each other as their cries of support rang through the square. Romina wouldn't be surprised if their battle cries could be hard on the mountain tops.

Once their fury would've shaken her to her core. Now she understood it as the untameable beast it was. Now, she welcomed it.

The Baron took out a large megaphone from behind him and came to stand at the front of the crowd. Hands slithered upwards and fingers just managed to touch the very edges of the stage. It was no ordinary megaphone. It carried such force Romina felt his words shake her bones. "All who wish to volunteer, stand over there." He ordered, pointing towards the church she stood at.

Half of the crowd broke away from the wave and surged straight at Romina.

Nimbly she sidestepped and dodged the furious crowd who stood in clusters, their voices never dimming. The Baron used the megaphone again, "In order! Stand in order!" He yelled.

Sokovians were notoriously bad at English, but some words they did understand. They pushed and shoved each other as they got into an wobbly straight line.

Still, they were jumping from foot to foot and couldn't stand still at all. Along with the fire blazing in their eyes came the steely look of determination. They were going to save and avenge their country and countrymen.

Romina roughly guessed there were two hundred volunteers. The Baron and Malick came over to the guards and gave them orders. But their words were too low and far away for Romina too hear. Immediately the guards saluted the two in charge and began going through the line.

Their gloved fingers grabbed the chins of the Sokovians and yanked their faces upwards, inspecting.

Small machines pricked each volunteers finger and a little light blipped shortly after. Green meant the volunteers stayed in line, red meant they were pulled out.

The beams of a flashlight flitted between the volunteers eyes. Their pupils retracted to small black pinpricks. And then the light moved way and immediately it expanded again; they blinked away the large bright circles that dotted their vision.

More and more were weeded out by the guards and numbers dwindled. Finally they got to the Maximova twins, standing right in the middle of the line.

Unlike some of the other Sokovians who had been hesitant or downright angry at being poked and prodded the twins almost stepped forward eagerly. They passed all the quick physical assessments and the men in black moved on.

Romina gritted her teeth and snarled in anger. The volunteers who got accepted were being moved up to the castle where the twins would now be going, under the protection of Shield. There they would get powerful and to Romina they'd become untouchable.

The only way to get them would be to become a volunteer. She could mimic a Sokovian accent well enough if need be, and she hoped that's all she'd need, because her passport was Romanian and clearly that's not who they were interested in. In fact, with the current near violent mindset of the rioting crowd, she prayed no one found out her nationality. She'd be ripped apart.

But she needed the twins. If they escaped when she was so close she wasn't sure what she'd do. Clenching her jaw she moved towards and wrestled her way between two men.

The guards got to her and patted her down. Before she could say anything they took the knife that had been buried deep within her coat pocket and deposited it in a bag; she was about to defend the weapon but they didn't seem to care.

Rough hands harshly patted her down for more weapons. Then hands grabbed her chin, squeezing it tightly and yanking her face upwards then whipping it from side to side.

The harsh light from the flashlight blinded her eyesight as it moved across each green eye. Another hand grabbed her thumb and pulled it forward, squeezing down hard, cutting off the blood pressure.

She hissed in surprise at the sudden sharp pain in her thumb and didn't even see the bead of blood as the machine swallowed it. There went a long moment and panic gripped her heart; she was sure it's come back red.

Her shoulders sagged in relief as it blinked green. And then the guard moved onwards; both the men on either side of her were removed.

They continued their quick methodical procedures until only seventy eight volunteers were left standing in the spotty line. Seventy-seven Sokovians and one Romanian. Two soon to be dead Sokovians and one soon to be killer stood in the line.

Quickly the guards quieted down the disappointed volunteers who hadn't been selected. The translator spoke again, "All of the volunteers make your way up to the old castle; follow the two guards in front. To those that did not make it, thank you for your heart. Now pass on the fire in your hearts to the selected volunteers. They will need it." He said.

Cheers rose and people waved. Names were called in prideful cheers. But no names were yelled louder than the names of Wanda and Pietro.

Romina bared her teeth in disdain at the absolute arrogance in the way the boy held up his arms, fully accepting the crowds love with a cocky smirk. She wondered if he had worn that very same look when he had burned her brother to ashes. She wondered if he'd wear it when she killed him.

The girl was humble, ducking her head slightly and wearing a small grateful smile at being accepted as a volunteer.

And then the crowd began moving, everyone lumping together as they moved through the narrow alleyways. Romina became disoriented, losing the twins in the process.

But finally, as they began walking up the castles winding walkways, she spotted the back of Pietros dark brown tousled hair.

Her eyes hardened and the hate around her heart grew. She would do it. They would be in close quarters now. Any day now, she would watch the light leave their eyes. Any day now, she'd finish what her brother started.

Her hands clenched inside her grey jacket, "I do this for you, Mikael." She whispered to herself. Her words were lost to the wind and the giddy talks of the mass of Sokovians around her, feet moving in desperation to get inside the castles doors faster and start their new lives.

* * *

AUTHOR NOTES:

For now I'm keeping it as Maximova because it just sounds a little more Eastern Europe. At least personally I haven't encountered many f's in last names. So I'll make it in later chapters Maximoff as the english translation of the last name . . . sorry if that annoys you all.

Just some little things. One I hope you liked it, obviously.

But two: if you're bothered to read my other Avengers ff this one will not be like it. that one is about a highschool girl and has to do with romance. this one is much darker and will focus on loss, the effects of torture (both mental and physical), and battling vengeance with understanding and forgiveness among other things. I think this will be bumped up to M fairly quick depending on the guidelines (which I always forget what are, oops).

Thirdly: as far as I'm concerned right now there wont be romance. but there will be some probable friendship in the future.

Fourthly (and lastly, swear it): comments including constructive are always welcome!


	2. September 18, 2010

AUTHOR NOTES:

To Guest: Thank-you! Your review makes me happy. And trust me there will be drama - it won't be pretty.

To purplekitties: Your first review was awesome and it made me so happy reading it! I am honoured to be your first ever review (I'll give you an imaginary cookie because I'm too poor to buy any real ones . . . who am I kidding I'd eat it on the way home before I'd even be able to send anything. Pretend cookies are safest for everyone). And I'm glad you saw the scene so easily :)

Now I feel pressured not to disappoint in any of the future chapters.

* * *

 **September 18, 2010.**

The giant metal door scraped across the ground before locking behind the volunteers with a clang.

They were left in darkness and nervous murmurs rose up. Then high above an industrial sized lamp hummed to life and flickered down on the group. They looked around at each other, trying to decipher whom they already recognised and who was a stranger.

Their anxious eyes flickered around the shadowed room as their breaths came out in quick short puffs. The old stonewalls were chipped and scraggly moss clung onto crevices within the wall. High above large swaths of abandoned spider webs hung like a grey canopy.

Some of the people jumped as another door slammed opened and ten guards came storming in. One of them spoke Sokovian, though his accent was off, more Russian sounding.

"Get in groups now! Separate into female and male. Go! Now!" He roared and then all of the guns were trained on the group.

Their previous riot like behaviour had disappeared, in its place came bewilderment and uncertainty. But they began doing as they were told, in confusion at first, until finally the male and female side got defined and people took hesitant steps into each direction.

But Wanda and Pietro stood at the front. Her slender hand rested lightly on her brothers forearm. "Why? What do you want and where's The Baron - or the other man - Malick?"

The soldiers tensed and their hands moved up to the trigger as they raised their weapons. The leader stepped forwards.

"If you do not listen, we will shoot. You will receive information when Strucker decides to give you information." The leader growled behind his mask, and then raised his gun. "You have five seconds to make your choice." He said, his voice so steady there was no doubt in that threat.

It was the first time Romina felt a shot of fear go up her spine. Not because something about the whole volunteer program seemed drastically wrong, but for the twins.

If they dropped dead how would they ever come to regret her brothers death - getting them to regret their actions was the only goal, the only reason for living, she had left. Romina bet they didn't even know what they had done. He had just been collateral in the war they fought. But she was going to show them that the collateral damage had people that loved them, and Romina was willing to give them a taste of the very same effects from collateral she had suffered.

Her feet almost began to move forwards, but for now she watched the twins intently, as everyone was, waiting with baited breath to see what they did.

Wanda's hand wrapped tighter around her brothers arm and she leaned in to whisper something. His response was heated but she shook her head and raised herself onto her toes, kissing his cheek quickly. She said one more thing before slipping away, joining the women.

A pang of jealousy rose up inside her at their sibling bond she no longer had, and then it was overwhelmed with anger. Before she had too much time to dwell over it the guards began shouting again, sending the two groups through different doors.

Romina looked behind her to see Pietro staring at his sister with worry and a near feral defensiveness. But there was nothing he could do, and Romina lost site of him as she was swallowed by the darkness in the hallway they were being lead down.

The guards marched them down such a dimly lit hallway several people stumbled. At the end the two guards that lead them stood on either side of the hallway. One swung open a door and jerked his head towards the next room.

They did the only thing they could and shuffled forwards into the room. Rominas eyebrows knitted in confusion; it was a changing room. Though by the row of lockers that didn't even touch the wall and the skewed wooden benches it looked like it had been set up hastily, perhaps only a few days ago.

"Hello volunteers. Please take off all clothing including all jewelry. You can place your possessions in the metal cabinets and will get them back shortly after inspection. Thank you for your cooperation." The robotic female voice said, though not unfriendly.

The volunteers didn't make any movement in removing their clothes. They looked around the room and then several jumped as the door behind them was closed with a sharp clang. One of the shorter girls rushed towards the door and tried to yank it open.

When nothing happened she tried again and a third time still. As she whipped around her blue eyes were open wide in fear. In response one of the older women stormed over to the door and tried her hand at the handle too, but the door wouldn't budge.

She slammed the door with the flat of her palm and yelled, "Let us out! We do not want to be part of the experiment any longer! Let us go!"

In need of immediate comfort the women began to form little clusters, talking in hushed whispers and occasionally throwing worried glances at the locked metal door with the dark tinted window, so devoid of colour all you could see was your own reflection. Instinct was telling them to go into a full-blown panic, but their rationality was keeping the primal instinct at bay, trying to come up with excuses about their current situation.

They weren't all going to collapse in a screaming heap just yet.

"Hello volunteers. Please take off all clothing including all jewelry. You can place your possessions in the metal cabinets and will get them back shortly after inspection. Thank you for your cooperation." The robotic voice repeated.

Some of the women began slowly reaching for the buttons on their jacket, looking around hesitantly.

"I think we should do it." A level voice said, and all eyes snapped towards the source and rested on Wanda. "The Baron and Malick have helped us for half a year now. They have given us food when we would have starved, they have given us aid when we would have died from injuries, and now they give us hope to fix our country. This is just a standard physical examination. Girls what is there to fear that we have not already seen on our own bodies? I have seen my own body many times, and I am sure yours are not much different than mine. Do not be afraid." She said, and then her hands moved to the silver lining of the zipper.

Rominas lip quirked, and she couldn't help but grudgingly think _smart girl_ as she saw the Sokovians hands trembling slightly as the pinched the zipper and began pulling downwards. She was a good actress.

All of the women had been listening to her confident voice and the second Wanda began moving to discard her own clothes the women's attention went on their own; they never even saw the fear evident in her body.

Romina may have been uncomfortable, but not fearful. She had taught herself to be rational through all situations; when emotions clouded logical and rationality, that was when you sentenced yourself to death. So she kept a clear head and did as the robotic voice told her and began to strip down.

Clothes were discarded in little right piles right now to each woman. Finally they picked up the piles littered with all their sparkling jewelry on top. Gingerly they placed all their possessions in the little boxes.

Goosebumps rippled across their skin as the biting cold bit at their exposed flesh. Shaky puffs of air escaped their trembling lips as they wrapped their hands tightly around themselves; shivers racked their body - it was the coldest winter in years.

Glances that the Sokovians tried to keep subtle were thrown Rominas way. Her skin was darker than the rest and she stood tall and slender, her head easily seeing over the others.

She knew what they were thinking, the thoughts they tried to dispel in their minds for something that perhaps seemed more rational: that she was Romani. A gypsy.

And they weren't wrong, her mother had been one while her father was full blooded Romanian. But in the long sunless Romanian winters, her skin had become paler.

But they didn't know she was Romanian. Nor that she was Romani. Romania was where thousands of Romani lived in their camps after getting kicked out of their houses within the cities like animals. Sokovia didn't have any, but they still had stories, and still carried the strong judgement with them, the same fear her very own country had of her.

With its harsh endless winters and living prospects so poor in Sokovia, there was little chance any Romani would be stupid enough to cross the border into Sokovia to try and find a living.

But Romina didn't try to hide her body from them. She had grown accustomed to stares and the looking of judgements in people's piercing eyes as they stared at her.

As long as they didn't try to grope her she didn't care. "Dance for me little gypsy!" "Perhaps you can lose the clothes and we can dance in my bed." "Why you wear so much clothes, huh? Your kind looks much better in those dresses." They would say as they went to grab her breasts and reached between her legs, their faces swallowing her vision as they leered at her.

No, the women's subtle glances at her right now were more than manageable.

But they stopped looking at her a Wanda took charge again. Her chin went up in the air and when she spoke in an even tone you wouldn't even think they stood naked in sub zero temperatures. "Follow me." She said, turning around and opening up the second metal door, this one with no window.

She walked inside and held the door open for the others. As Romina walked by the look of searing hatred must have been unmistakable in her eyes because Wandas own widened in shock. And then Romina slipped past her into the room.

A few moments later, the door closed. Looking around Romina saw they stood inside a large empty room. Nothing was significant about it save for the small metal holes like grates that were lined near the ceiling of the room.

The faded yellow tiles had long dark streaks that had run down due to mould and rot.

"We are ready for the inspection now." Wanda called out to no one in particular as she looked around the room, perhaps to catch the eye of a camera.

No matter how close proximity she and Wanda shared she couldn't risk attacking her now. All Romina wanted to do was wrap her hands around the flesh of the smaller girls throat, but that was their leader she'd be attacking, and Romina was too scared they'd pry her off the girl before she could finish it.

There was a small click and Romina looked behind her, suspecting the door had just locked. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Something was very, very wrong with this volunteer program they had signed up for.

A small light bulb lit orange and began flashing. "Please remain calm. Thank you for your cooperation. Please remain calm. Thank you for your cooperation. Please remain calm. Thank you for your cooperation." The robotic voice repeated. And then it went silent.

The little orange light continued flashing periodically in the ceiling. It reminded Romina of the flashing lights on a police car.

None of them spoke as they looked around the room. Then there was a dull clanging sound behind the wall as something rattled in the pipes. All eyes went to the cement wall. They followed the sound as it began at the edges of the wall and followed the rattling as it inches its way quickly along the inner walls.

And then thick white mist shot out through the metal grates, swirling around. The smokes tendrils made its way towards the group from all sides, intent on smothering them.

Small horrified and surprised sounds came first, to quickly be drowned out by screams of terror. Somewhere inside their screaming Romina heard a comment about the holocaust.

Romina should've been just as terrified as they were but she found herself in an eerie calm state. All off a sudden she felt as if she were in a terrible dream.

The smoke kept coming, being shoved through the vents at rapid speeds. It was heady and thick; the women scattered as if they could outrun the smoke in the tiled cage they were stuck in.

Across the room Romina caught site of Wanda, her eyes looking more confused and disbelieving than anything else. She probably hadn't expected this to happen, not even in the depths of her imagination. She had expected glory. Now she was receiving death.

Romina swallowed as finally her fate began to hit her. For a split second the room seemed to become double and her mouth dried. Her clammy hands hit warm flesh and she turned around to see one of the women behind her, grabbing onto her and hiding behind her as if she had decided Romina could stop the smoke.

Someone else moved behind her and accidentally snagged their finger in her coarse curly hair; she hissed in pain. Turning around another woman had gotten behind the first one.

A hand wrapped around her arm and she was close to shaking it off and then decided against it. She hated Sokovians, she really did.

But she had no quarrel with any of them besides two; and in the face of death no one held nationalities. They were all just humans, fighting for the right to stay alive. Though the hair of Rominas neck rose like hackles as she experienced the first human contact she had had since her brother died.

She just clenched her hand into a fist and let the woman hold on.

The smoked danced lazily in front of Romina and all she could do was stare at it.

Twenty women had already fallen down, hitting the ground the second they had inhaled the smoke. And some others were cowering down on the ground, staying low to avoid the toxic gas. They had found out quickly that those scratching at the walls had been much closer to the smoke; those who ducked down could delay their fate for just a few more moments.

Time seemed to slow down; perhaps the speed of the smoke had enveloped the room in only a few seconds, perhaps it had been minutes.

Rominas eyes glided past the smoke to see the outline of Wanda on the other side, still standing. And then she dropped immediately a swift moment after inhaling, her head lolling to the side and hair splaying out. Her half fisted palm faced the ceiling.

The white vines wrapped around Romina a second later. Her eyes teared up as the smoke stung like fire and a desperate scratch built up in her throat; she took a frantic shallow breath as her lungs begged for air.

And then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her legs gave way, darkness pulling her far under.

* * *

AUTHOR NOTES:

So that was that. HYDRA's a charming organisation.

I hope I'm getting the Romani racism correct and a little bit of the history. Anyone knows better can feel free to correct me!

Reviews are still welcome. They can be just normal comments or constructive criticism (especially on this story since it deals with sensitive topics). Or you can can just go in for the double kill and do both. Or you know, you don't want to leave anything at all, and maybe haven't even bothered reading this far. That's cool too.


	3. September 19, 2010

As for now it will be assumed when they speak they are speaking Sokovian. If there's a change in language i'll make it clear.

To Guest: Why thank you :)

To purplekitties: Sorry for the evil cliff hanger. Well I guess you'll have to wait and see if she gets powers - as for what powers I'm still on the fence about that but I think I have it mostly sorted out. I wont spoil too much about how the title relates to the story though so you'll have to wait and see. thank you for the review, it motives me.

* * *

 **September 19, 2010.**

It was the throbbing pain in her arm that dragged her from the suppressive depths of a dark dreamless sleep. Blinking sluggishly her hand began to curl into a fist in a vain attempt at lessening the pain.

It didn't even register the trembling movements of the surface she was laying on wasn't through some strange earthquake but from the fact she was shivering with cold.

With a strangled groan her eyes sprang open.

The room she was in was nearly pitch black and appeared to be completely empty save for whatever she was lying on. With her non injured hand she spread out the flat of her palm on the coarse material before bunching it up with her fist. A blanket, she surmised.

As she began to regain feeling she forced herself to sit up swiftly sending her throbbing head into a tailspin; she was naked. Her face screwed up in pain as the headache really began to take hold.

Whether an effect from gas or dehydration she wasn't sure.

Romina looked around the room but it was too dark to clearly make out anything. Except the hallway. One of the walls was made of thick glass and showed a rundown hallway. Dim lights were placed in long lengths from each other.

As she became alert, slowly and surely, her heart began beating and running wild in fear. Trembling fingers went down to her throbbing arm which she held up and angled for the best light. Gently she ran her fingers over the point of pain and immediately retracted with a wince.

There was a plaster there; in the low light her brain hadn't been able to make sense what was on her arm, but with a fleeting touch she was now certain. What still remained uncertain was why it hurt.

Gritting her teeth her fingers pinched the edges of the plaster and began peeling it off; it stuck onto her skin like a suction cup, peeling the thin skin up with it before it was released from the plaster with a light tearing sound.

The plaster curled in on itself when it reluctantly released its hold on her skin; she dropped it to the ground. She began to move fingers up her arm with feather-like caution. The pain she felt when her finger hit the fleshy ridge had her doubling over, opening her mouth in a silent scream.

It was very, very tender. But she had felt the hard plastic of the stitches.

Something had been inserted into her arm hastily and without care for the aftermath - as long as it was successfully implanted.

Romina couldn't tell how big it was, not until the pain subsided. Because for now it felt like an entire rod had been inserted into her arm, but it could be maybe no larger than a bead.

Her eyes flashed up to the hallway in paranoia at hearing the ghost of footsteps. But no was was there. And then she heard the first moan, coming from somewhere further down.

With shaky legs she forced herself to stand and took a slow step forwards in the dark, as if afraid there was a dark pitfall where she would fall into and be slowed whole by the unrelenting darkness.

But her foot landed on the solid cement floor.

Her walk lead her to the other side of the room, her eyes trained on the hallway the entire time. But the change in angles didn't help her at all.

She continued seeing the exact same hallway. There was no end, no beginning. There were no other rooms to be seen, no guards, no nothing. Nothing but the dim lights and cracked cement walls and chipped brick floor.

She jumped as a cry sounded through the hallway, shattering the deafening silence. A voice followed soon after, "What have you done to me! Let me go! Please! Please I beg you." A females voice.

The absolute terror that had their voice breaking made Rominas own heart constrict in fear. For a second her vision seemed to double and she placed a hand on the cool wall to steady herself.

If only it was a nightmare - oh she wished with fever it was a nightmare - that would mean she would wake up in safety.

But this was a real nightmare, one she wouldn't wake up from no matter how much she screamed and cried and pinched yourself. Another screaming voice joined the first, begging to be let free, attempting to threaten the captors with being jailed with a hysterical edge to their voice. But it sounded far off, further away than the first voice was from her.

As Rominas eyes began adjusting better to the dark she saw what she had been lying on: a bed. A simple metal bed with a thin mattress no thicker than the width of her hand and the paper thin blanket she had been lying on.

But there was also a bundle by her feet. As she moved forwards her hand grabbed the material and held it up, nearly pressing it against the glass to see it better.

It certainly wasn't a comfortable material. She imagined it was similar to what prisoners wore. But nothing covered her and it was better than nothing.

She slipped the grey dress over her head - at least, she assumed it was grey. It was nearly impossible to tell with the current lighting. It went down to her calves. In the back of her mind she wandered if they had chosen the dress knowing her height or if it was a one size fit all and she was lucky she wouldn't be tripping in it.

Part of her hoped it was merely night time which was why there were only the industrial lights she could see. But the cold humidity told her otherwise. It was the same humidity she experienced when she walked into the basement dungeons of castles she had visited in Romania.

And that was exactly where she was when the mist had smothered her: in a castle. A breathy laugh escaped her chapped lips as she began to realise the gravity of the situation.

She was trapped in Sokovia, they had taken away her cellphone and passport - evening going as far as removing her ruby earrings, and no one knew she was here. She was trapped an unknown amount of meters below the ground where only the dead could hear your screams.

Whoever this Shield was they hadn't made their intentions known yet, and the only hope she had was that in a few weeks the police would begin wondering where the volunteers were. If she was lucky the police headquarters located in Sokovia's capitol Malviv would respond to Zebreva's police.

Whatever was happening here was organised and she suspected they'd need backup. Romina could only pray she was alive that long. Without knowing their aim with the 'volunteers' besides the probable lies they had told them at the ralley, Romina was left to run wild with her imagination.

And each image was more horrifying than the next.

More sound began filling the hallway and she suspected the drug was weak enough that the Sokovians could fight their way to consciousness - a place they would soon find to be much more unpleasant than the endless dark they just came from.

She added another observation to her list: the walls weren't as thick as she had initially thought. A soft clang sounded against the wall opposite where her bed was. She suspected the room next to her was set up identical to her own.

But with the current treatment they were receiving she wasn't surprised they hadn't personalised the rooms. If they did they would've given her a brown paper bag to breath into. At the very least.

The breathing next to her began to pick up and there was small thud. Whoever was next to her had begun to bang their fists on their wall, but the sound was nearly eclipsed by their heavy breathing.

The anger that sparked up in temporarily dampened the panic. Romina would never trust the Twins, even in death. But the Sokovians had, like mindless sheep.

Of course she couldn't expect more from them. They were just Sokovians after all. Uneducated peasants in a poor country with no thoughts of their own. And it would take a particular breed of people to follow the Twins.

They had expected greatness. And Pietro and Wanda had lead them into their graves. At least that's what Romina presumed was happening with them, one way or another. This time Romina really did laugh out loud, the sound unnaturally sharp and tinny as it bounced on the walls.

She was no better than the Sokovians. She had followed the twins too, straight into her own damned unforgettable death.

A strangled cry brought her out of her thoughts; it was the girl next door. She recognised it from the pitch of the scream. "Fuck." She muttered as she eyed the wall separating her from the girl. She hated Sokovians - fucking tarans. But they hadn't chosen this and neither had she.

Ignoring the panicked girl next door would be the same as ignored a frightened animal. Gritting her teeth she walked over to the wall. "What's your name?" She asked loudly.

There was a pause and the girls breath held. "A-are you talking to me?"

"I believe you are my neighbour, so yes. I am Romina."

The pause was longer this time, as if debating whether she could trust the speaking girl. Rolling her eyes Romina fought a snarky comment to the license; what was the girl afraid of, that Romina would break through the wall and hurt her?

If she spoke up someone else - the guards in black would come and beat her senseless? They would quicker focus on the screamers further down the hall than two girls trying to soothe each other.

"My name is Alexandra Antoneva." The girl replied, her breathing still jumpy. But she had concentrated just enough to spit out a reply.

"That is a nice name, Alexandra. How old are you?"

The pause this time was briefer. "I'm seventeen."

Romina cringed when she heard this. The girl was so young; she still had her life ahead of her, not even graduated from school yet, and so desperate to join a fight she couldn't win - Sokovia was beyond repair. And her own naivety had forced her into a situation which would force her to face the world for what it really was: harsh and unforgiving.

In others eyes being twenty-three was young, but Romina felt years older than what she was supposed to be. She supposed that happened in war. Children in war turned into soldiers, and soldiers shed all their youth the second they picked up their first weapon.

"Did you just turn seventeen?" Romina asked, and just for a second she felt herself immersed in the new girl, forgetting the situation they were in, just like she had intended for the other girl.

Alexandras reply came in a nearly normal response time, and Romina found it harder to hear her breath now. "I turned seventeen two months ago, on the eighth." So in August. She was born on the Day of the Dancing Dead - a holiday only the Sokovians celebrated. There would be irony there later, Romina mused.

"And what do you want to be?" The Romanian asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What - a doctor? Lawyer? Everyone wants to be a lawyer these days. Maybe a clown - a stripper?" Romina pressed.

"What kind of person thinks of a childs dancing clown and a stripper in a same sentence?" Came Alexandras near immediate reply.

"A person who has seen a clown strip."

A small sound that could've been a sob as easily as a laugh came from the Sokovians lips. "That sounds awful."

"Oh it was. With a body like that . . . but it did make me laugh, so I guess the clown still won in the end. He wore nipple tassles - I suspect he was really just a stripper though who somehow found himself in a clown suit."

"Is that even a true story?"

"Yep, but sometimes I wish it wasn't. What has been seen, cannot be unseen."

They fell into an uneasy silence as they listened to the chorus of cries and screams and the occasionally bang on the glass; as Romina had suspected the thick glass didn't shatter.

"Romina . . . what will happen to us?" Romina imagined the girl swallowing, hands toying nervously with the uniform grey dress she was probably wearing.

"I do not know, but the police will come soon, I know it." She said with a confidence she didn't feel.

"I'm scared." The younger girl admitted.

"Alexandra, I will not let anything happen to you, not as long as I am here, do you understand? They must go through me first." The Romanians voice burned with fevor.

Alexandra gave no reply, but Romina pretended she nodded.

 **Some time later**

The Romanian was against the far wall opposite the hallway, observing for any newcomers. At some point she must have fallen asleep as she woke up with a start at the groaning sound of a heavy metallic door being opened.

She winced and shielded her eyes as the lights flared up, blinding white light flooding her room. Heavy boots began making their way down the hallway and then the pleas and screams which had previously died out flared back up again.

Her hands gripped shins so tightly her knuckles whitened. Five guards passed her room. One lead the group while the remaining four flanked him. This time none of them held guns, but they still wore the heavy armour. A shiver passed through Rominas spine.

For a brief second she thought they were coming to her room; she could still see them. But when she heard a familiar scream and the terrified sob saying, "What do you want? Please don't hurt me - please - I'll do anything." She realised it was Alexandras room they had gone too.

In fear Romina stood halfway up, hands splayed against the wall and while the guards paid no attention to her she scurried to the far corner in her room and hunched down slightly, as if the imagined shadows could hide her from the men; make her invisible.

Romina drew a sharp intake of breath as her eyes widened and she froze. They had punched her. The sound of flesh being hit was painfully familiar to her.

Alexandra gave a sharp cry in response and there was what sounded like a scuffle. Alexandra began screaming, her voice hysterical as she spoke between half-sobs and strangled screams repeating the same things over and over again: "Let go of me - let go! Let go of me!"

With a woosh glass door slid slowly behind her. It only two two guards to keep the small girl contained as they half dragged half carried her down the hallway from where they had come. She was kicking and writhing in their iron grip; not once did they fault as the marched steadily onwards.

Romina swallowed sharply as she watched the girl go. She was a small thing with thin blonde hair that reached her back and the face of a pixie. In the back of her mind she added another detail to her mental list: they did tailor the dresses.

And then the guards disappeared with Alexandra. The door groaned before it clicked into place, and then the lights flickered before returning to near darkness.

Trying to blink away the bright white spots flashing in her eyes she stumbled forwards and pressed herself up against the glass, tilting her head in desperation to see if she could see where Alexandra had been taken too, but there was nothing. Just more hallway. A eternal fucking hallway.

Guilt well up in her, threatening to drown her and her fist clenched and then struck hard into the glass, splitting her knuckles. The blood well immediately in thick dark beads of red. A silent sob wracked her body as she she let her head drop backwards to stare up at the pitch black ceiling.

A prayer she knew wouldn't be answered fell out of her lips silently, a prayer to be killed where she stood. A quick end. As her eyes slid closed nothing happened.

Romina crawled into the bed and wrapped the blanket around her freezing frame, leaning against the stone wall and resting her arms on her drawn up knees. She stared blankly ahead at nothing.

Alexandra might have been pulled off to be murdered and Romina had done nothing to stop her when she had promised the girl she would, promised her to subdue her and make her feel safer in an environment neither of them could control.

She had lied and Alexandra had believed it. Now she would die knowing Romina Zuitev was a liar and a traitor. Her throat closed up. All she had wanted to do was make the girl feel safe.

But Romina was no hero. She just wanted to survive.

 **Unknown Time Later**

With a jump Rominas head whipped towards the hallway. The door clicked and then her arm rose to shield her eyes as the blinding light invaded her room again.

Some people still tried to scream and beg and threaten, and Romina could only assume they had been further down past Alexandras room because otherwise if they were smart they would remain silent.

The guards came back and Romina stilled and cast her eyes downwards, intent on making herself as invisible as possible.

The blonde was being dragged down the hallway again, but this time she was silent. Her bare feet dragged behind her and her head lolled downwards, hair shielding her face as it swung lightly back and forth like reeds in the breeze.

She couldn't be sure, what with the guards nearly surrounding her and only catching a brief glimpse of her in her peripheral vision but she thought thought dark purple bruises in the faint shape of fingers ringed her biceps. And then she was gone.

There was a thud and Romina knew the girl had been unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. Before the door had even slid back into place the guards turned sharply on their heel and left.

It had become clear to Romina now that time was quickly becoming a made up concept. There was no natural light, no watches, no mirrors to tell her how she aged. The only way to mark time was when the guards came and when the guards left, and that was just desperation she felt, latching onto them as a form of time.

Curiosity was nearly impossible to put out once it flared up. "What did they do to you - tell me - tell us!" "Were you tortured?" "What happened?" "I don't want to be raped! That's what they did didn't they - oh God please, I don't want it - I don't. Please." "Please tell us did they hurt you?" "What did they want?" "Yes did you ask them what they want?!"

If Alexandra wasn't awake before, she certainly was now. The yells were nearly deafening, impossible to ignore. But there was no response from her. Frustration burnt through people, yells turning into screaming threats, until they burnt away everything and left the people with a hollow feeling and they retreated into their rooms, allowing the silence to settle.

There was no answer and after a long time Romina could only speculate hours had passed. A gravelly deep voice floated through the air and the dark haired girl pressed her ear to the wall; to her other neighboor. "Don't make promises you can't keep." The man said softly.

He referred to the conversation she had had with Alexandra hours before. Hot tears that remained unshed prickled in her eyes but Romina did not answer him. There was nothing to answer.

She knew why he had spoken now; he had feared speaking before when they had taken Alexandra - what if she did not return? But now it was OK to scold her, punish her for her betrayal. She didn't argue.

"She'll never trust you again." The man said, as if responding to something she had never said.

"She shouldn't." Romina answered, barely above a whisper. Her hands ran harshly through her hair before her head fell forwards onto her knees.

Romina could well have been here for days or only for hours, but the constant uncertainty was fraying her nerves.

There was nothing she feared more than unknown motives. Especially with an unknown group. With no information she didn't even know her options.

Finally her eyes slid shut to take her into a light sleep. With every shifted her eyes fluttered open, scanning the hallway before her head fell back onto her knees.

She shifted in an out of unconscious until her body had recharged just enough, however long that was she could only speculate now. On a normal day she would get seven hours of sleep.

But with the fear that burned through her veins it might just have been two hours. "Alexandra?" She asked softly, but received no reply.

"Alexandra?" She repeated, louder this time, "Did you have a pet dog when you were little?"

"No." Came the clipped reply.

Romina licked her lips, "A cat, then?"

"We did not have pets." Her voice sounded off and then it dawned on Romina. Her cheek must be swollen, distorting her speech slightly. _Forgive me._

 _A_ fter a long silence the Romanian spoke up again, "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked softly. But she did not expect a reply, she didn't deserve one she knew. Not after what she had done to the young girl. But when Romina asked it wasn't just curiosity that needed to be sated like the others had demanded.

It was irony that Romina refused to talk about her feelings and experiences to anyone with the thought that it made you weak, but wanted this young girl to talk about it now in the hope it could help Alexandra. She nearly smiled at the thought.

As her eyes began drooping shut again Alexandra reply, "Dr. List -" and then she broke off in a sob.

"You don't have to tell me - or anyone. Not ever if you don't want." Romina assured and her fingers flexed, acheing to pull the young thing towards her.

Despair bubbled up inside her and she felt her breath catch in her throat and her hand run up to soothe her throat which had tightened. Pressing her lips tightly together she tried to prevent the sobs from escaping as she listened to Alexandra break down.

She listened in silence until the girl cried herself to sleep. And then Romina cried in silence, surrounded by the biting cold and the dark.

Hell had found her.

* * *

AN:

reviews = awesome

Taran is apparently a romanian racial slur - I'm not sure how serious it lists though. its equivalent to redneck. I decided to make it count for Sokovias (since in my hypotthethical world they used to be part of Romania).


	4. September 26, 2010

**AN:**

 **RR, yo.**

 **responses to reviews at bottom.**

* * *

 **September 26, 2010**

Her hair was splayed out all around her and one leg was propped up against the wall as her fingers drew abstract shapes on the ground, mimicking the imaged ones that squiggled across the vast darkness of the ceiling.

Romina thought she had lost the concept of time, each abysmal second bleeding into the next, but she had finally found a way to tell time - how accurate it was was another matter entirely. It was a horrid way to tell when the next day was upon them and guilt gnawed at her every time she marked off another day in her head, but she had begun mentally detaching herself to keep her sanity.

The guards threw an unconscious Alexandra back into her room and where almost at the end of the hallway before her door had slid shut. People preserved resiliently and their voices rung out with questions that'd never be answered even after the guards were long gone, as if hoping they'd be rewarded for their stubbornness.

Her hands came to a standstill and she closed her eyes briefly. "Day seven. One week. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I have been here for seven days. Alexandra has been here for seven days. We have been here for seven days."

Every day that passed she feared she'd forget the days and lose herself entirely and so she did the only thing she could: repeat the new number until it became burned in her brain. And even then there where moments in the silence where her brain seemed to lose itself into the abyss of her imagination and panic would grip her as she forgot, just like a flicker in a light bulb, before the number would come back to her. A little blip.

In everyday life a blip in memory meant little, so little in fact no one even thought of its significance. But being down here in the ground, that little blip meant everything.

She jerked up and sat. Her hands went onto her lap and she looked at the lamp that she could just see from her cell. "Seven." She said to the lamp, as if to remind it of the day too.

It was something she had read in order to hold onto a memory better; or to memorize something with better ease. Assign it to an object. And so she did. A lamp that was her only constant.

Even Alexandra wasn't, Romina saw her for brief glimpses and now she could barely talk to the girl she was in so much pain.

There came a whimper and the Romanian knew she had woken. The bed hadn't squeaked in the past two days and Romina knew it was because she didn't have the trength anymore. The unwilling focus on her pain drained her off her energy until they dragged her off again.

The blonde hadn't said where she went, or what was happening to her. All she could repeat was "Dr. List" or "the light". Neither made sense but she couldn't pressure the girl who was already in a fragile state. If she tried to explain what was happening slither the pain would overwhelm her or the stress of her memories did.

All she knew was that it carried pain no one should have to endure. It did well to frighten the others - those that could see her and hear her were terrified, knowing they'd be next at same point. And those that didn't found out soon enough as the stories spread from cell to cell, twisting and become more terrifying and distorted.

It was like the child's game Romina used to play when she was younger: telephone. But this wasn't a safe house and this wasn't a children's game they were all playing. By the time the information, twisted beyond recognition, came back near Rominas cell she didn't even bother trying to correct it.

Alexandra kept silent as well, and Romina could imagine if she had the energy her hands were on her ears, blocking out the noise.

Truthfully, no one knew what really went on. And that was somehow more terrifying than knowing. At least with the knowledge of what was happening there could be some mental preparation before their own doom, no matter how marginal. Her palms turned clammy and her heart sped up just thinking about the secret room.

Standing up in one fluid motion she began walking around the room. She walked along the walls like a caged animal.

The smell of piss and shit had become familiar now. The smart ones had discovered the chamber pot under the bed, and the unlucky ones soiled the corners of their room. There were no flies to dine on the remains but the bacteria certainly were and Romina wondered how long until she became sick - or if they'd ever collect the pots; they'd overflow soon enough.

Small bowls of water and lumpy grey food that tasted of little was given to them one every other day, at least by Rominas account. The water wasn't nearly enough to stave away the throbbing headaches caused by constant dehydration, and the food kept the biting hunger that knotted I their stomach away only for a short while.

She found there were times the hunger couldn't let her sleep, nor the desperate need for water. It felt like every cell in her body was writhing and screaming for nourishment.

Hot irons prodded her stomach and several times she had curled up into a ball and clutched at her pained stomach; she supposed it was resorting to eating itself. And shed wish it'd hurry up, having no stomach was a blessing.

And the lack of water was driving her to insanity. Romina was sure she was capable of nearly anything at this point if it meant receiving water. Her throat felt like sand paper, rubbing painfully with every reluctant swallow.

She was thirsty and hungry, but most of all she was terrified. One week in the darkness had felt like an eternity. How had others - stuck in caves and the sort - done it? How could they survive over a year without ending their own life?

There was a sharp cry from the room next to hers. That familiar guilt that nagged at her all week needled her again as she felt relief at finding a distraction from her own thoughts.

"If you had to choose between a -" Romina cut off quickly as she stopped herself from saying 'snickers or mars bar'

Food was off limits. The teenager was in acute pain and surely starved, herself. Naming food or beverages was off limits. Naming animals seemed off limits too - they could be thought off as an escape. Countries were out too, because imaging themselves somewhere far from here was painfully unobtainable.

"Would you rather be a naked baker or a naked plumber?"

"You already did that one. And you have an obsession with this." Alexandra rasped.

"Actually it was slutty lawyer or a slutty stewardess." She corrected the younger girl.

"There's no difference between slutty and naked."

"Of course there is! Being naked means being a hippie nudist who probably smokes patchouli and listens to New Age music. Being slutty means your customer gets a bang for their buck - or receives a happy ending - if you know what I mean." A smile played on her red lips.

Alexandra tone shifted suddenly, and Romina wasn't fond of the conversation change. "Romina where are you from in Sokovia? . . ." There was a sharp cry followed by laborer breathing. For a while the conversation stopped until the pain subsided, just enough for the Sokovian to speak in-between pained gulps, "I have listened to your accent all week and cannot place it." She confessed.

Romina chewed her lip. Oh she was glad the wall separated them so Alexandra had no way to analyze expressions. Anyone who knew her knew she wasn't an awfully good liar but would still withhold information. Luckily the Sokovian couldn't see her now as she began to lie, "I guess you're right to be interested. My family comes from the North Tereva region, near the Mujek mountains. But my parents divorced and my mother took me to live with her in Austria.

I was going to go back to Sokovia when I finished with upper secondary school - but I got granted a scholarship for the Computer Sciences program - that's why I have an accent. Guess I've been outside Sokovia for too long."

Alexandra paused to mull over the new information. In Rominas head she had begun to attach actions to the blonde so she wasn't just a floating voice through the walls.

"So why did you come back?" Alexandra asked.

Romina bristled at the probing. What was turning innocent had the potential to turn deadly faster than a strike of lightning. "My father died." She responded, her tone flat.

Romina was quick to find out one could stop nearly any invasive conversation by dropping bombs on people: family deaths, mental illness, traumatic life events. And just like that the Sokovian was silenced, and Rominas shoulders sagged in relief.

If this had been an apathetic girl she was dealing was there was little doubt in Rominas mind that she'd press onwards, asking things like, "Well why did you decide to volunteer then?"

Romina was sure she could find a plausible enough answer but was glad Alexandra had ceased with her line of questioning.

She walked around the small stone room one more time before finally sitting at the edge of the bed. She leaned forwards and rested her arms on her knees, her hair falling forwards. "Have you heard about Emperor Justin I?"

Alexandra shook her head, "We didn't learn about him in school - well maybe we did, but history is so boring. Why should I care about things that don't affect me?"

Romina rolled her eyes and proceeded to tell the story anyway. "He was born in Ancient Greece during the Byzantium Empire. He was just a peasant and a swine herder. He grew up like a normal boy on the countryside until a brutal army invaded the region. They burned everything, took the women, and killed all the men they saw. So Justin did the only thing he could: he fled. Constantinople, the Capitol, was a safe place.

Justin came to the city with nothing; he had lost everything in the war. All he came with was the clothes he wore and just a sack with bread. Everything he was, was now in his bag and the clothes on his back.

He decided to join the army - what else was he to do? They soon found he had a talent, and he was so good at combat and strategy he began to rise through the ranks. He ended up being promoted all the way to being a general under Emperor Anastasius I. When he died he became the commander of the palace guard and soon after became Emperor himself. Want to know the best part?"

Alexandra nodded her head.

"He was never literate. He was just a peasant boy with a huge disadvantage and he still made it to being Emperor - actually that's not the best part. Everyone would just think a peasant boy who couldn't read was stupid, but he surrounded himself with trusted advisors.

Justin fell in love with a girl some classes under him. He ended up repealing a law that stopped different classes from marrying each other. When they became husband and wife he treated her as an equal. He understood how unfair it was to be treated with no respect because you were viewed as below someone else without justification."

Alexandra turned thoughtful. "Was the point that it was a romantic story, like Romeo and Juliet? Because that's my favorite story, you know. I wish the boys at school were like that, but they're all so boring. They just want to drink and to fuck. None are romantic and sweet like Romeo."

In response Romina wrinkled her nose. She hated the story. A stupid boy and a stupid girl fall in love and throw away all logic to the point they both died. Personally she'd rather live, but to each their own.

She shook her head so her curls swayed, "No point. It's just useless knowledge, I suppose."

"But I thought you were - oh." And then Alexandra's hands flew to her stomach and her face screwed up in pain.

Her voice softened. "We don't need to talk anymore. Get some sleep, Alex."

And Alexandra gave no reply as she writhed on the floor in pain, a pain that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere in her body. And at some point her mind stumbled upon the word and she gasped the name she had been looking for, "Scepter!" Before succumbing to the pain again.

Romina turned her head to the side, quickly moved her hands to readjust the blanket so no warmth left. She had heard the Sokovian say something, her voice so quiet she thought she had just imagined it. But it had been there. She had said something, another piece of information. "Scepter."

Whatever the hell that meant. They were pretty staffs carried by royalty to show off their claim to nobility and their wealth. Did she mean scythe?

But Romina had barely seen blood on her; save for the dried blood around her nose and ears, like she was bleeding from the inside out, her cells bursting under the strain from an unknown pressure. If a scythe had been used on her it would have been obvious. Romina couldn't be sure that Alexandra was even awake when she gasped the word.

Her legs began to cramp being curled for so long. But there was no way to stretch her legs without being exposed to the cold. Her body was too long for the short excuse of a blanket.

It was almost futile, staving off the sickness. The blanket was still too thin to do much good and here in the cold dampness she was surely going to get sick.

As she began drifting off to sleep she imagined being on a beach somewhere. The sharp suns rays would warm her skin and the sand would scold her feet when she walked across it. The ghost of a smile made its way onto her lips as she thought about it.

 **October 4, 2010**

The fury against the Twins had built to levels she didn't know she had. Every moment that passed as her fists clenched and unclenched she was surprised the fire didn't consume her, leaving nothing but the ashes in the aftermath.

A few days ago she had tried to figure out if either twin was in here. She needed to know. It was a hassle trying to communicate between the long lines of cells. She was sure even by Sokovian standards the prisoners were considered idiots.

But it was something to do at least - until it wasn't. She had tried for a second time in desperation to see if either twin was there in one of the long lines of identical cells. But neither Pietro or Wanda was there.

For a few minutes she had concluded they had sold out their own countrymen - perhaps for power, maybe for money. But the thought was soon snuffed out with reluctance. They were the two biggest nationalists she had ever seen. Hell, they had crossed into Romanias border, risking jail time, just to burn an American embassy.

They would sooner die than betray their brothers and sisters . . . Then again, how desperate were they really? At the end of the day they were poor stupid peasants and who knew what they would do to get a little boost in society?

She shook her head in frustration again. No, it wasn't possible. Wanda was a decent actress, but it had been clear on her face the separation from her brother and then the gassing hadn't been planned.

Now she couldn't even scream at the either twin before Romina died herself. Killing was a luxury she had now forgone. She should've tried to at least take one of them out while they stood in line Neither would've seen it coming. But right now the twins were barely in her mind: Alex was.

The girl had barely spoken for the past four days. And when she tried her sentences had cut off abruptly as more pain flooded her, threatening to smother her.

Now it was only Romina who conversed and every now and then Alex would give a small grunt that she was listening, hanging on to every word the Romanian said as she focused on her words that distracted her at surface level from the pain.

". . . It was a small cat. One of its eyes had been scratched out by another cat in a fight. And the tip of its tail were turned slightly, like it was broken. Oh it was a horrid cat, it scratched and it hissed and it hated me. It was a little black ball of pure pain in the ass. But I kept feeding it, and it began to come to my house everyday. Finally it came into my apartment. Little asshole thanked me for taking care of it pissing all over my furniture.

We had a little war for a while there - we worked it out I guess. All off a sudden it was like a switch and he became all cuddly. I thought he was going to gauge my eyeballs out but it seemed like he had turned into a big softy. Then one day he disappeared. My window was nearly always open, even in the winter, but he never came back. I miss him." Romina smiled and rested her head against the wall.

"I've never had a sister before." Alexandra said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. Rominas ears had become more sensitive as they had gotten used to the long bouts of silence that now followed in the second week.

Her hand splayed against the cool wall, as if she could hold hands with the girl. "Me neither. But you're the best I never had."

There was silence again, only interrupted by coughs so volatile they sounded as if Alexandras lunged would explode.

It wasn't too far of a stretch in her imagination. Her coughing had already broken three of her ribs. But the vomiting had been worse. At first Romina had thought it was just food and water the girls stomach couldn't handle anymore.

But soon she realized the amount of liquid she was coughing up couldn't just be food and water; they hadn't received that much. She had been vomiting blood. It was enough blood that Romina could hear the splashing through her wall and it made her stomach churned.

She listened to the suffering of the girl for hours. The retching kept her awake. It alternated between bouts of dry heaves and then more blood. Then she stopped coughing, going completely silent for the first time in a week.

And then her brow furrowed as the bed began to rattle, hitting the wall with its trembles. She was sure the girl wasn't in the bed. Getting up swiftly she moved to the wall and placed her hands on it, tilted her head against the wall. "Alex? What's happening?" She called loudly.

There was no response but the rattling of the bed against the wall, smacking into it with vigour. "Come on Alex!"

And then an image appeared in her head faster than her mind could process it. Finally she understood it: Alex was having a seizure. She must be close enough to the bed to be touching the legs.

Her hands slammed against the wall, "Alex talk to me! Come on! You'll get through this alright, you'll be fine. You're fine."

The furious rattling didn't stop; it only seemed to amplify.

And then she strode over to the glass and her hands curled up into fists, she began pounding the wall. "Help! She's having a seizures - she needs help now!" She screamed. The sound was hysterical and desperate and her screaming echoed as she looked down the hallway, switching between begging and threatening.

Light trails of sweat smeared the glass as her clammy fists continued to slam against it. But the hallway remained deserted.

And then the rattling stopped; leaving a silence that was painful in its wake. For once she heard none of the Sokovians speaking. She couldn't even hear her own breath as it caught in her throat.

"Alex?" She said softly. "Tell me you're alright. Please."

No reply came. She went over to the wall and sunk down, her hands splayed against the wall, fingers extended upwards. "Come on now, don't play with me. I just need to hear your voice. I know it hurts but give me something - anything, a grunt, a moan, a 'shut up and let me sleep, Romina' - anything."

She was met with silence. It seemed everyone she had woken up held silent with baited breath, waiting for Alexandra to say something.

Her hand slammed the wall, "This isn't funny."

She remained sitting with her palm against the wall until her muscles ached, her ear straining to catch even the slightest breath. The desperation to receive an affirmation Alex was alright had her glued to the spot, refusing to move until she got a sign. Time lost its meaning and she could well have been sitting there for hours.

She didn't know how long it went but the familiar creak of the metal door that fractured the silence had her only turning her head to look at the men pass. Her heart began pounding in anticipation. Alex was going to be fine. They were late, but the Sokovian was going to be fine.

The door opened. For the first time the guards talked. They muttered something, too low for Romina to make out. And then followed a sigh.

They began moving again but the familiar _wooshing_ sound of the closing door didn't follow. It was only one guard now, walking behind the others that was taking Alex away.

He held her by her ankle; her grey dress rode up as he dragged her across the floor towards the door.

Her head was turned towards Romina. Blood that was already dry smeared the side of her face, and blooming bruises littered her body in purples and blues and yellows. The blood had run out of her nose and ears and eyes.

Her lids with faint spidery purple veins were half-closed, light blue unseeing eyes stared right at Romina. Her hair trailed behind her, clumped together with sweat and blood.

And then she disappeared. Romina blinked and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't breath.

A wild panicked feeling began coiling around her, suffocating her but she couldn't understand it yet. Alex wasn't dead. She was alive. Dead victims looked decayed, dead victims were skeletons. She hadn't looked like a skeleton.

Her skin looked the same as the last time she had seen it. Her face didn't look like those decayed zombies on TV either; it was just a face with a little blood on it. Her eyes weren't gone either. They were the same beautiful wide clear blue they had been a day ago, looking at her through hooded eyes.

And then the walls seemed to close in on her and the ceiling crashed down and she barely caught herself on her arms as she hunched over on all fours, fighting for breathing.

Her eyes squeezed shut and her stomach lurched. Any second now her heart would explode. A screamed sob left her lips.

And then there was no escaping it. Alexandra was dead, gone, just like that. One moment she was hear, talking and breathing, and then next she was no more. Just a lifeless corpse.

Her arms finally gave way and she fell to the side, curling in on herself as the screamed sobs began wracking her body. It was as an absolute loss of control, she couldn't catch her breath, couldn't think straight, couldn't see through the flood of tears that obscured her vision.

Everything had been taken from her. Her mother, father, brother, and now Alexandra Antoneva. She had been the first Sokovian she didn't hate. Contrary to that she had begun to care for the girl, having spoken to her for two weeks everyday. She had told Romina nearly everything about herself, or what she could through her pain. No one had been that open with her before, but some waifish teenager from Sokovia had been.

She cried until her eyes burned and her throat was hoarse. For a while she fell into a dreamless sleep before being pulled out, where she'd cry again, looking at the wall before her eyes would flutter shut.

Time lost its meaning. At some point food was slid into her cell, the metal bowls clattering as they were hastily dropped inside. She paid no attention.

Romina danced on the line between total apathy and a dangerous maelstrom of emotions which threatened to drown her.

Her mind had become blank and her only movement was in blinking as she remained where she was since she had broken down.

Shield had claimed their first victim. Alexandra Antoneva was gone. Romina still didn't know why they had done this, why they had to murder a small seventeen year old girl who loved romance stories and had a constant craving for gummy bears.

What she did know was that everyone she loved ended up dead. The only relation between all of them was her. It occurred it her, lying down down in the cell unmoving - a little too late - that the only way to prevent any future deaths about people she cared about was to not care about them at all.

"Rest in Peace, Alex. May whatever heavens and angels exist take you to a far better place." She breathed. As her eyes slid shut, a final tear squeezed its way out and trailed down the side of her face, disappearing into her damp hair.

* * *

AN:

First victim has been claimed. And Romina is now a total debby downer - go figure.

Reading this is free and I get no money from writing this so all I ask for is a few seconds of your time with a little comment :)

Whatsername: Thank you, I'm glad you like it :) And she will definitely meet up with P/W but not under unexpected circumstances. And it certainly won't get prettier when she shifts Alex's murder from "Shield"/HYDRA to the twins.

BerbDCat: Makes me happy to hear, thanks for taking the 5 secs to review, makes a writer happy :)

purplekitties: I guess I should apologise for killing Alex then . . . no more closeness, oops. Well I have already dropped a hint or two in the previous chapters of what her power will be so I trust you'll figure out what it'll be, detective purplekitties. If you do guess it I'll PM you a picture of a emu (I'm too broke to send you a real one.) Or a unicorn. We can negotiate that.


	5. November 21, 2010

The smell of urine and feces had subsided and the smell only came in subtle whiffs now. One time one of the guards had come in and she had heard a gag. The smell hadn't diminished at all, she had just grown accustomed to it. Once a week, at gunpoint, the chamber pots were removed and replaced with new metal ones. Though room cleaning never happened and she pitied anyone who had emptied the contents on their stomach onto the floor.

Four victims had died now like clockwork every two weeks from the day they were removed for the torture they endured. Two months, four victims.

No one knew what happened to them, only that their minds seemed so haunted from their first day that they couldn't even speak about what they went through without suffering absolute meltdowns as a consequence.

As the days had passed she had grown as thin and haunted as a holocaust victim, though the change had been so gradual she hadn't even noticed until one day she had looked down at her chest and saw there was no swell over her breasts anymore. When she looked down she was reminded off a prepubescent version of herself who had shot up in height, but no more.

If she survived long enough to look in a mirror she was sure she'd see a pale, gaunt version of herself with hollow cheekbones and a body that was only skin hanging on bones.

As the guards dragged out another volunteer, kicking and screaming for her mystery torture, the door slammed shut behind them taking the screams with it. Her roommate gave way to another round of coughing; a result of the constant cold humidity.

"Try to keep both your lungs." She said lightly. Romina sat cross-legged on the floor by the glass fogging hit up with hot breath. Her thin fingers began doodling a nondescript house.

"Yeah, yeah." He responded.

She remembered where they had abruptly stopped their conversation as the door had slammed open. It was an automatic response each time it opened, a way to keep them from noticing the two volunteer.

Every time they'd enter, Romina would quickly back into the corner or try to hunch down at the foot of the bed in a vain attempt at disappearing. Every time they came down she hoped for invisibility, that when they came to get her, they would open the glass door and look around, finding nothing. It was all she dreamed off, mores than getting out, because that seemed like a dream too far gone now.

"So Robi, you were saying?"

"Hm? Oh yes. There was some little punk in her pre-school, went around stealing all the other kids toys. Not Emma's though, he had a crush on her. I wasn't going to take out my shotgun before, but I am not ready for any boyfriends just yet - I was just going to use it to scare him a little, if he tried anything. Or maybe just shoot off a few warning shots before that, you know, a little pre-emptive strike.

Well one day he went after her friends toy, and she kicked him in the shin and pushed him to the ground. I knew without a doubt she definitely my little girl."

"You'd do anything for them." Romina stated. She knew she would do the same for her family, or rather, would've. Family above all.

"Of course, they're my life. That's why I had become a volunteer. Sokovia is a shithole - a glorious shithole - but a shithole nonetheless. I wanted more for them, a bigger house, better car, higher education for Em. I didn't want Malia to work, but for her to be able to do whatever she wanted. I doubt it'll happen now . . . luckily I have insurance. They'll receive a little bit of money from the agency, not a lot, but enough to keep them on their feet."

Romina wanted to tell him _dont think like that_ but she tried to give Alex false hope and look where it had ended with her. Every time she thought of it all she could think about was that she had caused her death somehow, that the death had been a punishment for Romina's lie. So instead she shrugged, even though Robi couldn't see her.

Robi began talking again, "I don't even know how I ended up with Malia, you should see her, she's absolutely stunning. I still think our marriage is farce. Maybe I'm always in dim lighting, maybe she has a lazy eye or something - either way I thought I'd be with my old girlfriend forever. Then again before that I thought I would just jump from girl to girl, a new one every time I hit the b-"

"I don't want to hear about former deposits in the spank bank." Romina interrupted.

Before Robi could reply there was another clang and Romina jumped. She didn't even time to move away from the guards before they came stalling down the hallway and all she could do was sit, frozen in terror as their boots thudded closer to her.

But they passed her without so much as a side ways glance. There was an flurry of commotion and a girls screams. Though not the usual sounds of terror but of anger. Curiosity got the best of her and she craned her head to try to look down the hallway, though she knew before she tried it was a failed attempt.

There was a grunt and then the ringing sound of a slap. The commotion continued, growing louder until they passed Romina's cell. It was a fiery redhead who was practically hissing and spitting as she struggled fiercely against the guards.

For just a second she escaped and Rominas eyes widened. No one had ever broken free of the guards tight grasp. The girl decked a punch straight into one of their stomachs and he doubled over. It looked like she was about to swing her foot up to land a kick into one of the other guards but a fist connected with her jaw and her head flew backwards.

The girl went limp as a rag doll and a guard caught her. He lifted her up into his arms and for just a moment Romina was sure the guard with the balled up fists was going to get his revenge on the girl. But then they began walking and disappeared, leaving the volunteers behind.

They weren't supposed to come now. They always got the next victim a day after the last volunteers death. Something had seemed off.

Neither Romina nor Robi spoke after that ordeal. That night (or perhaps day - her circadian rhythm was completed destroyed with the total lack of real sunlight) she slept with unease.

But the unease grew. She didn't know when seconds, minutes, or hours passed, but she did know that the redhead had been gone for too long now.

Every day the guards would take their latest victim, and in the same day the volunteer was thrown back in their cell for some quick recuperation. But the girl didn't return.

And then all of a sudden they took another man from his cell. He seemed to be Sokovia's own version of the hulk. With the amount of breathtaking anger he had, she was surprised they could keep him down. He was fighting them valiantly and Romina felt the barest flicker at hope that he could take them down. That he could escape. If he got out he could go to the police and save the others, then it'd all be over.

And then a bright flash blinded her. A grunt escaped his lips as his entire body went rigid; he crashed to the floor with a large thud. Veins appeared on his bald head and temples and tendons strained against his skin. Two wires attached to a small device were needling into his skin between his shoulders. The guards seemed unfazed.

All of a sudden she recognised that device. It was something the Americans used. A tazer. Why did this Shield have it, certainly it was illegal to have in Europe. Although what they were doing to the volunteers couldn't be legal either so certainly they wouldn't care about a small but efficient weapon. Unless the organisation was American?

There was a grunt as they lifted up in the man and dragged him away. His strong angry yells of _Do you know who I am? Ivan Dumitru is who I am, you bastards! You do not mess with Ivan Dumitru!_ had quickly been stopped by the electricity.

Her eyes widened at a sudden realisation and she banged her hand rapidly against the wall. "Robi are you awake?"

He rolled his eyes, "That man was more noisy than my alarm clock. I think I like the xylophone tune more than hearing _Ivan Dumitru_ repeated over and over again."

"Robi, what was the name of the last volunteer taken?"

"Little red? I am not sure."

Romina shook her head, voice growing more insistent, "No before that. The man, Emil."

"Emil." He confirmed.

An impatient sigh left her lips, "Yes, yes. Emil _what?"_

There was a long pause as Robi thought. "I think it was Emil Dalca."

Her hands drew down her face with force, stretching the skin. "And the first was Alexandra _Antoneva."_

Robi swung his legs over the bed. "Your point?"

"There was always an order to how they took volunteers. Think about it, why would they bother walking up and down and taking someone when they could just have easily begun from the first cell and made their way down? Its not like they've been looking for victims to play with, they don't care enough about us to do even that - so why bother expending more energy and walking and down the hallway. Every time they come in here they walk with certainty to a certain cell though.

The way they're choosing the people - don't you see it?" She ran a hand quickly through her hair, "It's alphabetical order. By last names. Antoneva, someone else, Dalca, the girl, Dumitru."

Robi whistled softly, "Well shit . . . Still don't know what order I'm in though."

She pursed her lips as she thought, "There's seventy-eight volunteers - was seventy-eight," she corrected, "and six are unaccounted for, the three sets of twins. There's now sixty-seven of us left. Hm. . . Robi Petran. Most Sokovians have last names around M. You might be one of the last." She chewed her chapped lip, "And I might _be_ the last." She said softly.

"You're very matter-of-factly about this whole thing." Robi pointed out.

 _I am a scientist after all, it would only make sense. And the longer time we have in here, the longer I can think of a way out, somehow, someway . . . as long as I dont die of starvation or pneumonia before that._

"I'm just trying to figure out what's happening to us." She sighed.

"Sometimes the unknown is better."

"The unknown is never better. It leaves too much room for the imagination. And I am not a creative person, Robi."

They fell into a silence again as Romina thought hard about Shield. There was too much efficiency with everything that had done, from the health check to the gassing to the cell order to choosing victims for the torture to be just for fun. There had to be a reason behind it.

Her mind lingered to their speech about being as powerful as the Avengers, but how would torture accomplish that for them? Unless they were trying to do a terrifying test to see their strength, somehow. If they survived the torture, they were inducted into the next level.

But there was still the fact Alex had mentioned the scepter; her heart tightened at thinking of Alex again. Despite herself she had found herself talking for hours with her neighbour and getting attached to him too - there was nothing else to do down here, and somehow it was easy for him to talk about himself, just like Alex had.

Romina had never been good at getting people to open up, but perhaps with the wall separating them it gave an elusion of safety, just like people writing to each other through their computer screens. She shook her head, trying to focus again. The longer she was down here, the more scattered her thoughts became.

There was the scepter, and then there was the systemic killings every two weeks. Somehow the tortures end was always timed for two weeks. It always ended up in a seizure that killed them. They couldn't possibly time everyones body to react within an exact two week time period, could they? No, it was impossible. All of Rominas research told her otherwise.

— - - - -

The seizure had taken Dumitru's life as well. Throughout the two weeks the redhead still had not returned. Maybe they had tortured her until she had died within twenty-four hours, Romina wasn't sure. But without anything pointing to her return Romina had to let all thoughts of the girl go, there wasn't any point of letting her run circles in her mind.

A day passed after Dumitru's death and she wondered who was next, intent on verifying her theory was right with absolute certainty. Thought it couldn't be coincidence that they were taking people in alphabetically order.

As she lay on the bed the door opened. This time she didn't move behind the bed, but she did still anyway. They marched downwards and she listened with curiosity to where they were going to go next. They walked past her door - and then her door slid open with a soft _whoosh._

Everything seemed to slow down as her brows furrowed and her eyes flickered at the opening door and then at the guards who had turned to look at her and then back to the door. And then two of them stepped past the barrier and into her small cell. Her stomach coiled and she leapt off the bed and hastily backstepped until she hit the wall with a thud. She shook her head rapidly and tried to speak, but her throat had closed up.

A rough hand wrapped around her bicep and jerked her forwards; she stumbled but the constant moving force unwillingly kept her on her feet, walking forwards. "It - it's not my time." She rasped. "Romina Zuitev - I'm Romina Zuitev - you have it wrong. Check your papers, I'm last. I'm last!" Her voice had begun rising to a hysterial shriek, words flying out of her now dry mouth, "It's not my time yet - please! You have to believe me - you have too!"

The guards said nothing and didn't slow down their pace, seemingly unperturbed by her struggling. The large metal door drew closer and closer until it seemed to loom over her. Someone from the other side opened it. She tried to dig in her heels but then she was yanked forwards, past the doorway. Her heart beat furiously and her hands became clammy.

Was this a fluke? Was it on purpose - oh god, had they found out she was Romanian? Were they going to murder her?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a cold cool calm had mused how she had never been this far around the castle before. They were now walking up a winding stair case. The stairs were stained with decades of unwashed dirt and the brick wall was beginning to crumble. It was so dim she could barely see where she was doing and several times she slipped, nearly falling if it wasn't for the tight grip that jerked her upright without sympathy each time.

The men in masks were an unstoppable force as they lead her down an old hallway. Her skin which had begun to grow accustomed to the cold broke out in goosebumps as a cool gust of fresh hair howled down the hallway. Part of her forgot about her immenant death as she saw sunlight for the first time in who knew how long.

There was no windows here, but the soft light was so different from the harsh industrial lights she had grown accustomed to that it had to be natural sunlight.

Someone yanked a dark sack over her head and her body grew rigid with the uncertainty at her loss of site. But the strong hands on her would make sure she didn't fall.

Then she was lead backwards and metal dug into her calves, forcing her downwards. She hit the surface with a thud. There was rustling of what sounded to be chains and then a click as ice cold metal handcuffs wrapped around her wrists and ankles and then bound her to the chair she sat on.

The sack was removed but before she could look around the room giant floodlights were turned on, blinding her. They hummed; the only sound in the room besides her harsh erratic breathing. At the sudden sharp lights she drew backwards and screwed her eyes shut; the chains rattled.

A soft calm voice flowed over the humming of the electricity, "Ah, Miss Romina Zuitev. It's so nice to find a S.H.I.E.L.D agent amongst our ranks." She recognised that voice, it was painfully familiar . . . someone at the protest up on the podium - a german, who was still hiding behind the blinding lights, "You and I will have a nice little chat now and you will tell me everything you know - if your information pleases me, we can negotiate how quick your death will be, Fräulein."

* * *

A/N:

Cliffhangers and more cliffhangers. I'm evil I know.

Oh and uh, fair warning there'll be some torture. And finally a familiar movie char comes up for the next chapter! Though I just re-introduced him right now.

And to everyone who's just reading for pietro/wanda to come up and the avengers . . . P/W won't be coming up for a few chapters more so I'm just going to disappoint you right now instead of keeping you waiting.

purplekitties: Thanks for the review again! This is my favorite procrastination story so your constant reviews make me a little happy and encouraged. Yeah i'm sorry :( I was close to playing writing god and for one reason or another keeping her alive - my feels got broken too. But i'm trying to keep this as close to AoU as possible . . . it's just instead of dismissing all the poor victims who died (seriously, Avengers and especially the twins seem preeeetty non-chalant about the murders of their countrymen.) I'm going through some of the stories of some of them before their untimely deaths. As whether Romina lives or dies time will tell, heh. Wow that was a long reply, sorry. Ooh one more thing (don't die on me) yeah just PM me if you think you got it.

BerbDCat: Thank you! Like I told purplekitties thanks for being a constant reviewer I love it :) Ha yeah I realised it was bugging me too I hadn't said what she drank or ate. Whether they're Shield or not will for sure be answered in the next chap . . . and hydra framing shield . . . you're smart, i like you.

Ill try and make these things waaay shorter in the future (the A/N's, not the chapters - this was actually a shorter one).


	6. December 6, 2010

I'm going to copy Russia's (unofficial) motto for this story: "And then it got worse."

* * *

December 6, 2010

The cold seeped into her bones and the cuffs bit into her flesh. She could hear the faint whistling of the wind running down the hallway and the soft hum of the electricity; somewhere beyond her site was the faint drip-drop of water, perhaps from a loose pipe. She could see nothing but the floodlights, nearly blinding her vision.

A pair of boots began to walk around at a leisure pace and she squinted, trying to follow the source of the sound with desperation. Her mouth was as dry as the desert and her throat had closed up. Terror kept her frozen to her seat and unable to speak; if she didn't say anything maybe he wouldn't hurt her.

"Do you not have anything to say? An agent without a witty remark? Color me surprised." He said, sounding amused.

The blood inside her veins seemed to freeze in an instant. Men who were loud and angry were limited in their imagination; they threw punches and kicks and beat out their anger. But a man who was calm and in the mood of entertainment . . . Anything was possible.

Strucker stepped forwards, his back right behind the lights, creating a dark silhouette of his tall figure. His hands were held loosely behind his back and his eyes flickered up and down her figure before walking over to the metal table she could see in her peripheral vision. There was a sharp clank and the clink of a knife; she intook a sharp breath.

He came to stand in front of her and then leaned forward, his entire figure looking over her, nearly smothering her with the malicious authority he exuded. The sharp cool tip of the knife came up to dance along her slim exposed throat. With care not to cut her, he trailed the knife upwards, running along her jawline and then tracing a dark circle underneath one eye. All thoughts left her as she could only focus on the feel of the knife, his hot beer-smelling breath that fanned across her face, and the amusement that glinted in his electric blue eyes.

And suddenly he rose, taking a step back. In a swift movement he slid the knife into a sheath hanging inside his black jacket. "Do you know much about rats, Ms. Zuitev?"

She swallowed, her eyes intently focused on his every movement. Her heart was hammering and a thick layer of sweat was developing on cold, clammy hands.

He held his up forgo her and shook it, "An interesting fact for you: there are said to be as many rats in cities as there are people . . . Isn't it interesting, how they are allowed to breed and take over everything, running wherever they please?"He raised his fingers to his face and mimed twitching whiskers.

"Of course, in the very beginning you do not notice it. Just a few rats, scurrying towards a food source. But then they breed like only rodents do. Soon you have an infestation; there are too many to count and much to many to see, going about dominating their environment. They seemed to be an unstoppable force, and often times unseeable living in their dark damp holes in the shadows and underground - only noticeable in their aftermath, aren't they?"

Romina gave an imperceptible nod. He began walking backwards and forwards in front of the light, casting a long shadow that leapt over her as he continued walking back and forth, his head raised high in the air.

"Rats have made quiet a name for themselves, haven't they? They are everywhere and nowhere. And yet, despite their penchant for hiding in the shadows, as soon as they find themselves facing an unfamiliar rat they become aggressive, going as far as murdering this unknown intruder.

For they can only accept themselves and their very own way of life, however much destruction it causing for all those around them. And cause destruction they do. In their desperation to breed and expand and cover the entire globe with their vile species, they also bring deceases. Deceases which kill an unending amount of people. And yet, because they do not travel out in the daylight, people do not seem to have much a care for the little big rodent, do they?" He interlaced his hands together, "so how do you go about killing rats, Ms. Zuitev?"

She exhaled a soft shaking breath and gave the smallest shake of her head. Romina didn't understand his story, didn't understand why he was telling her this and she felt as if she were standing on tiptoes at the very edges of a steep cliff, being swayed by the wind and waiting to lose balance any moment. She didn't know when Strucker would do something, but she knew it would happen.

"Well you turn their greatest strength into a weakness of course. What causes rats to find their perfect locations, and causing them to expand across the globe? Food, of course. And so a crafty little invention was founded. Rats love cheese . , . And so you place a nice little cube of cheese on this trap," he mimicked holding the imagined cube between thumb and middle finger, placing it on an invisible trap, "and slowly the rat emerges from its hole, little pink nose twitching. And as surely as all the other times it goes over to retrieve the food and -" his hands slammed down onto the table; sharp objects fell off with the rattling force and Romina jumped in her seat. The world seemed to tilt sideways for a second. "It's neck gets snapped. And just like that, it is no more. In the end, the rodent was killed off by its own confidence and greed."

He stood in front of her and knelt down, eyes flickering between hers. For a long drawn out moment neither spoke. His voice was soft, "And you are just like the rat. You work for S.H.I.E.L.D, a company which breeds violence and war, a company that tries to dominate the entire world, a company that seeks to destroy anyone which is not familiar. And yet how ironic it is, that you tell the public you fight for freedom and justice, yet in your quest you allow wars and genocides to exist."

And then he stood in front of her again, his hands resting heavily on her arms, his weight causing the cuffs to nearly break open her delicate skin, "and who are you, Fraülein, to play God? Who are you to decide who lives and dies - which wars and their sides deserve your support?"

She swallowed harshly and tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She shook her head in tiny rapid movements, eyes wide and blinking furiously as she stared at the man inches from her face.

"You see, that is why we, Hydra, are the superior organization. Humans are weak, careless, stupider than a flock of sheep being lead by a mindless sheepdog. They elect leaders who are openly intent on taking away their rights, they listen to ideas that tell them to kill off their children and support it, and they go around murdering anyone who doesn't share their point of view around them.

For years it has been clear to me humanity cannot exist on its own. Democracy only works if your land is filled with the educated. And as it stands, no one is.

You at S.H.I.E.L.D try to protect this violent, uneducated way of life, why? To be Free is to be Oppressed." He gave a quote, one Romina wasn't sure the source of. "I want a world where six billion people will rise up and say 'Hail Hydra.'"

Finally, she found her voice, though it came out trembling. "Aren't you Shield too? Isn't this Shield?"

He answered with a mirthless laugh. "You can drop your act now, Ms. Zuitev. There is no longer any point - I won't let you out of that chair until you are dead."

Tears prickled in her eyes and then ran over, flowing down her cheeks. A sob racked her body as she shook her head. "I'm not an Agent - just a student. I'm just a student."

He looked at the speck of dirt and rolled it between thumb and forefinger, before losing interest and flicking it away. His voice came out as a drawl, seemingly unconvinced by her breakdown, "Shield is really scraping the bottom of the barrel with new recruits these days, aren't they? Pity. Although your cries won't do much good here. The other agent did very much the same in the beginning, looking at my guards through long lashes, as innocent and bewildered as a deer caught in a headlight - until she snapped one of my guards neck, of course. But you won't be attempting such foolishness, will you, Ms. Zuitev?"

Her curled moved wildly as she rapidly shook her head from side to side. "Please," she sobbed, "I don't - I want to go home. I won't tell anyone, please don't -" she broke off as her voice broke. "I don't know what you're talking about."

While his lips turned downwards in disappointment, his eyes lit up with glee. "Perhaps my dear, this will help you remember." And then he disappeared behind the lights again. With desperation she tried to turn around in the seat as the heard the door scraping open, but the rigidity of the chair kept her looking mostly forwards.

The sound of guards dragging a limp and unconscious body was familiar now. They came around and then dropped the body in front of her. The chains rattled as she jerked back in her seat.

She blinked and then blinked rapidly as she stared at the body with slight furrowed eyebrows. The world seemed disjoint. Her mind didn't connect that the long red hair fanned out around the body and the dark thin brows belonged to the girl Romina had seen weeks ago.

She saw the body as a mannequin, with limbs splayed out at odd angles as she had been dropped unceremoniously in a heap. And then the world seemed to fall away from under her feet as she understood.

Understand as she saw the deathly paleness of the girl, of the deep gash running along her throat like a macabre necklace, of the long wide streaks of dark blood that had flowed down, all the way down to her legs, now leaving flaky discoloration on the grey dress.

Vomit spewed out of her mouth, the acid burning the back of her throat as it clawed its way out. It splashed onto the floor; flowing water, bubbling saliva, and half-digested chunks of the grey food matter oozing an uneven circle on the cracked cement floor.

It dribbled down her chin and she squeezed her eyes shut. The girl was dead. Her life had ended as violently as a lamb brought to slaughter. Romina pictured her strapped to this very chair, pictured the blade Strucker had, saw him standing behind the girl, knotting his thick fingers into her hair and yanking her head back roughly, exposing her pale neck before cutting the knife deep into the flesh, dragging it across; a dark red gleaming water fall flowing endlessly from the wound.

The others had died alone in their cell, because their bodies gave way to the mysterious events that happened outside of the Volunteers hallway. This was different. The redhead had been interrogated, tortured - she had been murdered. And Strucker was going to do the same to her.

Because he thought she was a spy.

Struckers voice broke the silence, and seemed to trail around the room behind the lights as if he was walking around. "That would be your friend - or should I saw was. She was also an agent, as I'm sure you well know. A computer analyst for S.H.I.E.L.D, and it seems she had done some research, found out a group was impersonating S.H.I.E.L.D right here in Sokovia. Of course she decided to take a little vacation and swing by to see what all the fuss was about.

When she found out about the volunteers she decided to join to do some firsthand research, instead of reporting her straight to her superiors. I assume she wanted to play the hero, the brave protagonist who went through a harrowing journey to bring about justice . . . but this is the real world. And essentially, I run Hydra. I will not let my enemies infiltrate this project and compromise it. She - and you - may think you are smarter than me, and so you'd be engaging in child's play. But I'm playing the game of grown ups now. Do you see?"

Romina couldn't stop her whimpers and shaking of her head as the world seemed to sway around her.

He stepped forward again and looked at the mangled body at his feet. "Though I was almost fooled, with those big eyes much like a doe, looking up at my guards through long dark lashes. She was quiet a sweet little beauty, wasn't she? But I believe in equality for both genders, Fraülein, and pain does not discriminate. Being a woman will not save you down here - and I can see you are not intent on talking, so," he bought the knife out of his pocket and light refracted off the side of the blade, "let us see then, if you are more stubborn than your colleague."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Good guy Strucker promoting feminism!

So many comments and all so long! I love it and thankyou thankyou! So glad you guys like this story.

So Today I learned information on rats I will never use until the end of my days. and Strucker likes hearing himself talk. And I know this chapter is shorter but I decided to split it up into 2 since the torture one lasts a little long (no it will not be a 5000 worded gorefest.)

BerbDCat: Woops I think I need to change that a little in previous chapters. She's always had 2 neighbours (since she's probably located around the middle of the long lines of cells). There are both men and women in the hallway, and in one of the previous chapters he (neighbour) kind of scolds her for giving Alex false hope, but he doesn't bother talking to her until Alex is gone. So yeah he's the person on her other side :)

Whatsername: Thankyou! Ah yes, unfortunately it isnt answered yet why Strucker's focused on Romina specifically. But clearly he's been fed some information from some source about her. And with already one actual Shield agent, he's not exactly that lenient, or trusting of what she's saying, namely because the real agent used the same tactic she's using now (though poor Romina isn't using any tactics, her emotions are all real.) Ugh Sheild agents, spoiling it for everyone else.

purplekitties: I tried 10 times and FF really has thought of every F'ing way to make sure links cannot be included . . .seirously I tried every creative possibility. SO you can look up "Curious Emus Scared by a Ball" on Imgur to see your reward :')  
last summer? Let me guess, you went to a camp, your friends 'accidently' ended up murdering, then hid your body and never claimed responsibility. Now you're a crazed serial killer who wears a mask and is intent on getting revenge/justice for yourself and waiting for them to come back so you can kill all of them in selectively gruesome ways . . . but in the mean time you pass your days sipping margaritas and browsing fanfiction.

Cimorene Uchiha: Get ready - these replies are long! (to your wonderfully long reviews).  
Firstly, you're cool for giving a comment on each chapter even after the fact they've been out for a while, I like you. Don't know much about anime but I guess so? We'll find out more about their motives about the embassy in the later chapters. Wars are never simple things and there's always shades of grey inbetween. I promise I'm getting around to her and her brothers relationship soon, but I really like your theory on it :) And the tracker will be explained in later chapters! You're impatient, you. But don't worry I haven't forgotten anything/facts I've put out in previous chapters - the more she interacts with Strucker, the further she'll get into hydra and the more will be explained about the situation she's in.

Ok little reply breather ;) Eh I picture her as recently having turned 23 . . . and then she'll be in there for 2 years (I think they mentioned it in AuO?). So she'll be matching up with her far (far, far, far away) in the future love interest woo! Yeah she's more of an adult than Alex anyway (the spelling thing no problemo), since she's had to see the uglier side (racism) of society much earlier on and I think that matured her faster than she should've. Because people are dicks.

Alex made me upset that she had to die, but I'm really trying to stick to the AuO storyline and not divert too much, even though I introduced an OC. And bingo you got it with the Sceptor, 5 invisible Rickety points for you! (Yes that's now a currency, and it's the strongest one out there). But I'll also get into the scepter and why the experiments are killing everyone so far . . . I call total bullshit on the "I'm angry my parents died and that made us strong enough to survive the experiments" thing they threw at us. You got like 80 people who are living in poverty and probably also got bombed and Marvel is trying to tell us they don't have the strength/anger/determination as well? I don't buy it . . . although it was Ultron who suggested that and he's batshit crazy and he may just have been trying to manipulate the twins.

Yeah she's not just being chosen randomly for fun. Someones given Strucker a tip about her, though what it is and who it was we'll find out later (I swear everything will be answered in due time, bare with me). So yeah I think from this chapter it's kind of shown she's definitely not an agent, just someone who's caught in an unfortunate situation where the actual agent used the tactics she's using now - though hers are genuine emotional horror and not an act. So you're right, he's deeeefinetly not convinced. Yeah she's one of those people that really can't catch a break . . . poor Romina. But she hasn't forgotten about the twins, and as for 'getting better' . . . uhhh . . . . pass on asnwering? :/ An embassy will also be answered later!

TL;DR : everything will be answered in coming chapters and I haven't forgotten about anything I've already mentioned :)


	7. December 6, 2010 PT2

**A/N:**

 _This has now been bumped up to M. I have said it would happen at some point, and there would be torture. Still, if you're extremely adverse to reading about violence, feel free to skip this chapter, but be warned you will miss out important parts of Rominas backstory._

* * *

For a brief moment he disappeared from view, and she heard his footsteps echoing from behind. When he came back he was holding an old black stereo, just small enough to be held in one hand.

The machine was banged up and had dents placed vicarious across the material, even creating a concave shape in one of the speakers, probably front neglect and abuse.

He waved it around, "I hate silence. It's grating. An unending quiet always makes it so difficult for me to work, and so I enjoy listening to music. Do you like music, Romina? Of course you do, you are a teenager - they all love their music." He placed the speaker at the edge of the table and between two loose fingers protruded a disk he had pull out of his back pocket. He slipped it into the stereo, "do you enjoy listening to Bobby Darin? I do hate Amerikos, but not Bobby. How can you hate a man with such a charming smile, eh?" Stricken himself gave a small impish smile, as if admitting an embarrassingly guilty pleasure.

Irresistible You began flowing merrily through the static speakers, filling the silence in the room and washing out the electric hum with Darin's cheerful voice.

Romina stared at him with wide eyes, her breathing shallow and ragged. A light sheen of sweat had already gathered and the light shone off her sharp jutting collar bones, just visible underneath the woolen grey dress.

She was stuck in a terrible nightmare where she couldn't get out and where she had lost her voice. Now she was animal running on instincts. She could feel the ice cold of the metallic seat seeping through her bare skin and turning bones into ice. She could feel the cool caress of the wind across her cheeks and tangled hair. Romina felt the cruel bite of the cuffs pinning her to her undesirable fate. But most of all she felt the animal inside of her clawing to get out, felt it screaming at her to run. Because fighting certainly wasn't an option.

Strucker spoke again, "You know I hate brutish men, and the way they use their fists to solve their problems. It's so messy. So imprecise. I preferred things that are a little more calculated, a little more clean. You wouldn't be swinging your bat all over the place and hoping to hit the ball on a chance now would you? You'd be aiming to hit it right out of the park."

Romina was helpless to do anything but listen, and the sport he referred to now she didn't know. In a swift movement he swiped the knife off the table and then came to stand in front of the chair, towering over her. Strucker squatted down inbetween her legs. Her dark eyes stared in unblinking fear at him. A thousand scenarios ran through her head, over half involving the apex of her thighs and the glinting knife in his casual grasp.

His free hand went to her calf and she felt his fingers snake around the flesh. His thumb lightly brushed over a spot. He frowned before his eyes flashed up to hers, "It seems you have quite a few developing bruises. You fought the guards?"

Her mouth opened but no words came out. Waves of nausea were building gathering like the waves of a storm in her stomach, sloshing and colliding with each other.

The coarse pads of his fingers began ascending at a leisure pace, making her hair stand on end. He tightened his grip on her knee and pulled it towards him, but it remained firmly in placed by the chains. White shapes where his fingers had been began to redden as the blood flowed back in.

Finally he made it to the fraying hem of the dress, just above the knee. His thumb ran under the dress, running along her thigh. She swallowed.

And then his hand bunched in the material and he roughly pushed it upwards, so far that it nearly exposed her. His hand stilled mid thigh, but his eyes slid upwards and in response she felt hot tears prickle her eyes in humiliation.

And abruptly he stood up. For a moment she felt nothing. There was the lights reflecting off the edge of the weapon, and a blur as it plunged downwards. It sunk, deep into her upper right thigh, tearing through pale flesh with ease.

And yet despite how fast it went, her sight seemed to clarify and sharpen. She could see all the shallow cuts and ridges cross-crossing her skin. She could see the blue and green veins buried underneath. She could see each dark hair buried in each follicle. And then the knife that ripped her skin apart, as easy as tearing through paper. It buried itself deep inside, ripping apart sinew and vessels. A small trickle of blood sprouted out and splashed onto her inner thigh.

For a moment she felt no pain, only a strange sensation. A feeling that something was horribly wrong and unnatural. It reminded her of the time she had dislocated her knee. A popping sound had echoed in the room and all of a sudden her knee was at a strange angle, one she couldn't move it out of. It had been a painful discomfort for the first few moments, a confusion as she stared at her awkward knee, and then pain had been all-consuming.

And then screams were torn from her throat as pain, overwhelming sharp, overtook her. Her entire body seemed to contract and her teeth bared as her head fell forwards, hair swinging in front of her face. Clammy palms curled around the chairs arms; her knuckles whitened.

All that could be seen of the weapon now was the mahogany wooden hilt that began tilting to the side, the weapon not stable under gravity. More tissue began to tear inside of her thigh, and a little wave of blood trickled downwards in streams, pooling in the seat; a dark glistening pool that seemed to absorb the light.

And as she felt his hand wrap around the hilt and she felt the blades sharpness move around again her screams abruptly cut off - the pain had become so great her throat had closed, leaving only a high pitched breath to puff out between her chapped lips.

The blade was yanked out of her and blood poured out like an erupting volcano, pulsating constantly a new wave of the fresh liquid.

In the corner of the eye she saw the blade, dripping with her blood. It fell onto the floor in small splashes. Blood was thrown in an arc as he whipped the blade from the excess liquid before placing it gently into the table.

She couldn't speak, but she didn't need too. Strucker had taken out his cellphone and leaned into the table, texting to someone, his eyelids dropping in a lazy manner and his fingers glided effortlessly over the keypad. He acted as if he hadn't stabbed her at all. Finally when he was done he pocketed the device before coming over to her again.

Small trembles racked her body and she let out a cry and shied away, shaking her head furiously as he came back. It felt like a hot poker was residing in her leg, melting the flesh right off. But somehow worse than that was the constant aching throb, deep inside her thigh, which came in constant drowning waves of pain. A giant wave of deep pulsating pain that crashed into her before subsiding and building up again.

Strucker rolled up the dark sleeves of his jacket, then rolled up the black sweaters sleeves. He surveyed his handy work before on hand began up her thigh again, just like last time. But this time he raised his hand and pointed his thumb downwards. He licked his lips in anticipation. With deliberate slowness his thumb rested on the wound, skirting over slick, torn flesh.

Her mouth opened in pain. And then he began to insert his thumb into the bloody wound, widening the cut. The music played onwards, becoming background music to her screams - the solo to Struckers bloody symphony; guttural cries of agony.

He worked methodically and with little emotion - besides the barest hint of a smile ghosting his lips - like a surgeon. And then his thumb twisted sharply inside of her with a wet squelch. Blood welled up and pooled around his thumb. He stilled until her screams subsided to heavy whimpers. Forceful breaths were huffed between clenched teeth. The muscles in her jaw jutted forwards.

"Now, I'll asked you this again. Who do you work for?"

"I don't know!" She rasped.

His eyes narrowed and she knew he was going to punish her and so the answers flew from her mouth, "Me - you - my university - shield - hydra!"

A mock disappointed frown pulled his wet lips downwards, "That didn't sound too convincing. But we have plenty of time. Maybe we should start with easier questions. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"And do you have any family?"

She shook her head. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, splashing and intermingling with the blood, giving way to pinkish hues around the edges of the pool in her seat.

"Unfortunate - for me of course. I could have used them as leverage. S.H.I.E.L.D seems to like orphans. A shame the organization was founded after Oliver Twist." It was another reference she didn't understand. "And what do you study then?"

"Biotechnology." Her hair clung to her damp temples and neck in clumps.

"A woman of intelligence, I see." A cry of pain left her when he removed his thumb. He rose up and clasped his hands behind his back. "Romina, Romina, Romina... I don't want to be asking all the questions. It becomes very tiring so very fast. So I implore you to tell me everything you know. It's the easiest way for both of us." He turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow to prompt her.

She sobbed, her faced tinged red in agony. "I don't know what you want to know. I don't know anything!" They racked her body and each breath came out in rasps between sobs. Saliva began running down the side of her mouth as her deep cries continued.

Strucker let out a long heavy sigh. He scratched his chin. "Hm. . . I don't want to make this fast. After all I have plenty of time. It seems you my dear, are very deep undercover. Shield should have no problems not hearing from you for a while. So I'll make a deal with you. You are old enough to think for yourself, and given enough time from your organization, I'm sure you can even develop your own thought processes untainted by shield. You just need a little time. So just tell me when you're ready to talk."

"But I don't know anything." She sobbed.

He made a little signal to the door behind her with two fingers. The door opened slowly with a metal groan as it scraped across the cement floor. She heard the sound of metal clinking against each other. Two guards appeared in front of her and immediately uncuffed her. She saw in the third guards hands, standing further away, was a twisted mass of rusted chains.

As soon as she was freed he stormed over to her and roughly bound her sore wrists together, deep red circles running into both of them, and tied the metal around them. Rust rained off of them in flakes, coloring her legs. They scratched at her skin and finally when they were tight enough he tugged her forwards.

Another scream came from her as she was forced to put pressure on her wounded leg. It was of no comfort when a guard wrapped a hand around her waist to support her. The chains were thrown around a hook in the ceiling and slowly they began hoisting her upwards.

They made the chains so her feet just high enough that occasionally the tips of her bare toes brushed against the ground, and yet she had no leverage. All of her weight was being held in her wrists.

The only warmth she received was from the blood running down her leg, oozing between her bare toes and dripping onto the floor.

The guards looked at her from behind their masks in a triangle formation. Strucker came to stand in front of her once again. "When you're ready to speak, give a shout."

And then, with Strucker in the lead, they all filed out, leaving her completely and utterly alone. The music played onwards.

As she dangled from the ceiling the pressure in her wrists began building up. Occasionally as she tried to readjust herself the tips of her toes would brush against the floor.

Eventually the flown began to slow down. _Drip . . . Drip . . . Drip_

From the minute she had been hung up it was as if her lungs had been cut to half their size. Each gulp of air was still never enough. Her head dipped and quickly she jerked it upwards again, eyes fluttering awake. But soon her head dipped again, and the darkness took her away.

When she was thirteen her parents had been dead for two years now, buried together in their towns cemetery. Almost no one attended but their fathers side of the family. Only their senile grandmother, her caregiver, and apathetic uncle.

Her mothers side of the family had long ago turned their backs on Mia. Those who did care about Rominas mother had quickly been persuaded to turn their backs too due to pressure. Now, Mia had been so as no more than the Gypsy Whore, the woman who so blatantly disregarded her heritage and bloodline in favor of a "gaje". A Romania man.

It was this though process that Romina always saw an ironic. Women were prized in Roma culture, and physical appearance came last when it came to choosing a bride. And yet how quickly they had turned their backs on someone they once called family. Romina knew that no matter how unaffected her mother tried to be, it wounded her how quickly they cast her out.

With the death of her parents, and her mothers side pretending her and Mikael didn't exist because of their tainted blood, and never having a good relationship with her fathers side, she was all alone save for her brother. Having just turned eighteen he could sell their small house and get them an apartment. He could take care of her.

But moving across the country to his university had been hard. She didn't know anyone there. And they hated her. She was different from them and always would be with her Roma blood. Romina wasn't sure how they found out, but they did. And the bullying . . . She had been terrified of going to school. They called her names, they pulled her hair, pushed her onto the ground. They thought they could because she was less than them. And maybe she was. She wasn't Roma, and she wasn't Romanian. Just some half breed who belonged to nowhere.

The day after she had been locked in the toilet all day until late at night the janitor freed her was the day she couldn't go back to school anymore. This she had vowed to herself. She felt broken, hollow. She was nothing anymore. Every time she went out, she was surrounded by a sea of people and yet she had never felt more alone, more broken. And no one ever cast even a glance in her direction. She could have disappeared right then and no one would know.

But Michael would. And like always he knew when something was very wrong. He had knocked on her door and when she didn't answer, curled up under her covers, face stained with tears, he had come in anyway. She had felt the weight shift as he sat down at the edge of the bed. Coaxing her hadn't worked, "Sora, tell me what's wrong. It's not-. . . Not that time again. . . Right?"

Her head peaked up from above the white covers, hair flat on her skull and she glowered at him. "No!" She cried before diving under the covers again.

Michael ran a hair through his messy brown hair and looked at the lump that was his sister. He had never been good with tears. When he had girlfriends who cried he would awkwardly pat them and try to tell them things they wanted to hear - but they always got angry at him instead. He never understood what he did wrong and all he wanted to was be a million miles away.

But this wasn't just a girlfriend, this was his little sister. The only family he had left. So he crawled up into the bed and laid down next to the lump, back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "I am not going away so you might as well tell me what is wrong, little sister."

For a long minute nothing happened. And then he heard an angry huff and she came out from her hiding space. Her voice broke when she spoke, "Everyone hates me, Michael. They can't stand me." Her lip quivered and snot ran downwards, "I want to go home. I want to never go to school again. I can't make friends. I can't get good grades. I'm not good at any sports. I'm not pretty. I'm nothing!"

It was the answer he had been afraid off. If anyone tried to push him, his responded with a fist without thinking. But his sister was not like that. She cared too much.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "'Mina-. . ." And then he got up. She heard him leave the room and she closed her eyes tightly. Self-pity overwhelmed her. Not even her own brother wanted to be with her.

But before she knew it he was back again and insistently poking her until her eyes spring open. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee. "This was all we have." He defended. Romina hated coffee. Especially black coffee.

But she sat up and wrapped her fingers around the cracked green mug anyway.

He looked at her and she saw the fevor in his level gaze, felt the honesty in his strong voice, "Being knocked down doesn't make you weak, it's staying down that makes you weak. But you're strong, 'Mina, and every time you get knocked down, you get back up again. That's what makes a fighter. And that's what we are, little sister: fighters. No one keeps us down."

She woke up with a sharp gasp, her head jerking backwards. Dark dots swarmed at the corner of her vision and the air gliding down her throat burned. In a vain attempt to get more air she twisted, sending a sharp pain shooting down her injured leg.

Pins and needles seared deep from her wrists to the tips of her fingers. Romina didn't feel like a fighter. She wished she was dead just to end the agony.

As she looked down at her toes she saw that blood had now engulfed her toes. For a moment she thought they looked like deformed raspberries. She laughed; a raw laugh through a sore throat. And then with a hiccup they turned into little sobs before becoming full blown, racking her body.

She cried over the loss of her family; cried how she was next; cried over the pain. She cried over a life she could have had but now never would.

As her breathing turned erratic the dots looked again in the edges of her vision, swarming angrily before obscuring her entire vision. Her head slumped forwards again and the chains rattled.

At fifteen she had been a seasoned clubber. Somewhere around fall when she was thirteen, her height had sky rocketed. Nights had been spend tossing and turning in agony over growing pains. Her breasts had swelled and one morning she had looked in the mirror and discovered supple hips. No longer did she look like a scrawny child, but a leggy adult, somehow missing the teenage years in between.

When adults talked to her they didn't do so with sweetness in their voice, but as if she already knew things - things she supposed she was supposed to have discovered herself whilst growing up and maturing.

There had been a boy, Robbie, he was seventeen and every time he even so much as glanced her way Romina felt a surge of confidence. He was so old and so cool and yet he thought her, fourteen year old Romina Zuitev, was cool enough to hang out with. She felt like an adult.

When he had handed her a cigarette, he had done so like he assumed she smoked already. Not wanting to embarrass herself she had taken in. The smoke had scratched down her throat and made her cough, which she had played off as it being cold outside. And later on when they went to the gas station before heading out with his loud already drunken-friends, she had swallowed nervously as she ordered her own pack of cigarettes. She asked for the first ones she laid eyes on: a pack of Kent's. The teenager behind the counter had handed her cigarettes with dead eyes, and she had felt the knot in her stomach uncoil in relief. He had thought she was an adult too.

The closer they got to the club the more rambunctious his friends became. They sang, they yelled, their voices echoed off the narrow city streets. Their feet crunched on broken beer bottles laid to waste on the cobble stones. Every now and then their faces lit up under street lights.

Inside, they navigate through the grey haze of cigarette smoke. The floor was sticky with spilt alcohol and she could smell the sweat from dancing bodies. The music, already released in the west years ago, seemed to vibrate through her bones. Blue and green lights flashed sporadically.

Robbie had taught her how to dance that night, guiding her by her hips, until he had spun her around and hungrily pressed his lips to hers. When his tongue entered hers she could taste the remnants of beer still lingering in his mouth.

And that night was the first night she had ever had alcohol and not knowing when to stop she accepted cup and shot after shot. The night began to blur and in the morning she could only remember bits and pieces. Her memory seemed to be like a kaleidoscope, hundreds of fractions of memories all jumbled together.

But she did know by the soreness she had lost the last part that made her a child. Now she was officially an adult. She was still all alone in the world, but now she liked being alone. Romina felt more powerful.

Now, she had something the other kids at school didn't. Something they wanted. When she had gone back to school she walked with more confidence, with an uncaring attitude, a small knowing smirk that played on the corner of her lips. And somehow there was a power in it that they sensed.

Her relations to the others began changing, slowly but surely. People began backing off. Some became jealous and some interested in her exploits. But she never made many friends, and perhaps she liked it that way. Liked being the mysterious girl at school who went off partying with an older crowd. She was too mature, too cool, for them.

At fifteen the other girls were allowed to come out too, or some simply just snuck out. The girls were outside the door near the bouncer, giggling over their cigarettes held close to their red painted lips. Romina replied to one of the girls with a sardonic comment about her gypsy blood.

A sharp comment had cut through their fun, "You're a fucking gypsy?"

Romina had whirled around in her heels. She saw seven men looking at her with loathing in their eyes, arms crossed so muscles bulged in their tight t-shirts.

"What's it to you?" She exhaled smoke, trying to look at them apathetically, hoping it masked her wariness.

"You going to try and sell me your shit? Going to try and steal from me?" He spat onto the ground. "Maybe you can do a little Roma dance for me and I'll let you steal me for the night." His friends laughed uproariously, baring their uneven teeth like animals.

She ran a hand through her hair, the girls around her tensed and glanced at each other nervously, "I'm just hear to get a drink. I'll leave you alone and you leave me alone."

Anger flared in the apparent leaders eyes and he took a step forwards. "You think you can tell me what to do?"' He took another step forwards and with blinding speed grabbed her wrist and jerked it forwards. "You think so, you little slut?"

Her heart pounded and she tried to pull her hand back against his bruising grip. One of the girls behind her cried out in protest but was quickly silenced with a glare from one of the men.

Someone behind the first man sneered at the girls,"You're friends with a gypsy?"

None of them replied. Romina felt anger knot in her stomach. Oh they loved partying with her, yet when it came to defending her they shied away like cowards. She held onto the anger; it was the only thing that kept her from succumbing to fear. And the bouncer was nearby - he wouldn't let anything happen, would he?

A quiet voice broke the silence, though the deadly rage couldn't be mistaken, "Let go of my sister. Now."

Romina looked behind her to see Mikael and five of his friends exiting the club. There was an unmistakable look in their eyes. It was like the wolves she had seen on TV, intently focused on their prey; seconds away from being ripping them open.

Romina looked back at the man, "Make me." He was amused.

Mikaels's friend spoke, "You dogs need a lesson about where Sokovians belong anyway."

And in her drunken state she was partially shoved to the ground by the man and forcefully pushed backwards by Mikael who had lunged for the man.

Everything was a flurry of fists and yelling. At one point one of the girls tried to jump in to defend Mikael, her biggest crush. But a fist from nowhere hit her in the eye sending her spinning towards the ground.

With haste Romina took off her heels and used the stiletto to ram it into one of the Sokovians skulls. It didn't go through or knock him out but the sharp pain did cause him to stumble and his hand to go flying to his head.

The bouncer yelled at them to break it up. If any of them heard they ignored it. Feet slid against the stones. Grunts sounded on occasion. The girls save for Romina screamed from the sidelines. The blunt sound of flesh being hit made Romina wince each time.

It was only with the wailing of sirens the fight broke up, one man at a time. The Sokovians, bloody and bruised scrambled away and took off down the streets. Mikael and his friends yelled at their retreats figures with taunting slurs.

Wiping away blood from his nose with his sleeved arm he stared at the Sokovians until they disappeared from site. With that he turned around to face his little sister.

"Stay away from Sokovians. Fucking mutts." He said, as if she had purposely begun a conversation with them. He was breathing heavily. She could see a deep blue bruise forming on his cheek.

She raised a brow, "And here I thought they were the pillars of our society."

Mikael didn't look amused; his eyes still danced with anger. He put his hands on her shoulders, "Promise me something, that you will never get together with a Sokovian. They are beneath you."

The sirens wailed in the distance. Romina nodded and then pulled out of his grip. Rumours about Sokovian aggression was one thing. Experiencing it was another. No one needed to tell her twice to stay away from anyone with a Sokovian bloodline, no matter how diluted. She looked to her crying friend, clearly distraught by the fight and nursing a bruised eye.

For a moment she was about to go over and comfort the girl. Then she remembered how the girls had left her to the Sokovians, "It's nothing more than a bruise." She said without pity. Romina turned around and followed Mikael into the dark alleyways, disappearing before the police came.

They walked through the labyrinth of small winding roads in silence. After a while Mikael roared and kicked the wall repeatedly. His breathing was laboured in anger. She clutched her upper arm, staring at her older brother with uncertainty. Never had he been angry - at least, not in front of her. Finally she swallowed and then walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

For a second he still before jerking out of her grip and facing her. "I hate them!" He spat. "It's all their fault! Everything! They destroyed Romania when they wanted their independence. They destroyed Romania when those uneducated scum wanted to come back. Everything they touch turns to ash. Fucking scum. If it wasn't for them papa wouldn't have lost his job - mama wouldn't be dead - we wouldn't be here in the god damned North - and I wouldn't have to be taking care of _you_." He said with loathing. She flinched. Tears began welling up in her eyes.

Immediately he looked regretful. "I'm sorry. I did not mean it. I love you - 'Mina I love you so much. But we could have had a different life. One we both deserved. But the Sokovians took it away. And now look at how they come into our homes and try to _fight_ _us_.

For a moment she stared at Mikael. Then she turned her back on him and began walking away. "Romina-" he began.

She cut him off, "I'm walking alone." Her tone was sharp.

She walked away from him, back home alone. She loved Mikael. And he loved her. But she was a burden. She was a burden because of the Sokovians. For the rest of her life she would grow up knowing that no matter how much her older brother loved her, he would always see her as another life he could've had but now never would.

It was the first time she began feeling loathing for another country - and everyone inside it. But this wasn't a burning anger that raged and twisted inside like it did with Mikael. This felt like a different type of anger than anything she had expierenced. It was cool. It was certain and unchanging. It was there, just being kindled. With the years it would grow to be all consuming, turning her veins into an icy fire at just the mention of "Sokovia."

Romina only woke up to being released from the chains. Her fingers were curled and stiff. She was dragged back to her cell. The tendons in her neck jutted in pain with each bump she incurred being dragged down the stairs.

They placed her in her cell and closed the door after them, disappearing from site. Even with the never ending pain what had happened didn't feel real. It felt like a disjoint. Even when she stared at the horrific red puckered flesh that rose upwards her mind refused to cooperate.

The cell was safe. Nothing bad happened here. Strucker and his torture wasn't real. Was that what torture was? Had what happened to her been torture?

Whenever there were victims of horrific events on the television they always cried. But she didn't feel like crying. Her eyes were dry, too dry. All she felt was hollow inside and was nearly succumbing to severe exhaustion. Maybe that was due to blood loss.

But whatever else she was, she couldn't ignore the dire need to quench her thirst. The food and water bowl had been placed inside the cell.

Her hands wouldn't cooperate, remaining in their gnarled position. She got onto all fours, supporting herself on her elbows and lowered her head to the bowl like a mutt. Pursuing her lips she sucked the water out of the bowl with haste; her slurping was the only sound save for a snoring woman further down.

The food became smeared around her mouth. Finally she managed, painstakingly slow, to drag herself up onto the bed, ignoring all her protesting joints.

The second her she hit the bed her eyes slid shut and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, dark and oppressing.

Over the week - or perhaps it was two - Strucker sat her on the chair with the blinding lights facing her. Every time she fell asleep she was violently woken up. Sometimes it was through physical violence. Sometimes just by loud music. Other times they threw icy buckets of water in her face. But the worst was when they used the taser. It was as if every muscle in her body locked in place, like every muscle was cramping at once; she was unable to move until they were finished.

Regardless of which method they used, she was never asleep for long.

Before long she began hearing voices, some in her head, some seemed to be external. Separating the real from the imagery started to become an impossible task. Some of the time she felt like she was simply floating outside her own mind. Other times she was blubbering to no one and everyone, begging Hydra to let her sleep. She begged the voices to be quiet too.

Some one she had never seen before began talking to her. Maybe he was part of her mind too, floating outwards to fuse the real world with her flowing dream world. He asked her a question; she immediately forgot what it was. So she began talking, trying to answer the question she couldn't remember the answer too. Before long she was talking about the birds in the bookshelf. There were birds, weren't there?

There was an audible sigh. The blonde man looked behind her, "We've exhausted her beyond her mental capacity. There's no sense in extending the deprivation . Everything coming out of her mouth now is nonsense."

Another voice drifted behind her, answering the man. "Tougher than I expected. . . Would've thought at least at least sleep deprivation would've cracked her. Not everyone succumbs to torture, but most break involuntarily through lack of sleeping . . . Interesting."

"What do you want me to do with her sir?"

There was a pause, as if the man behind her was considering. "Give her a few hours rest. When I talk with her I need her to be conscious of her actions."

"Yes sir."

She didn't remember going from the torture room to her cell, nor when her leg had been bandaged. But she woke up to the guards, this time feeling more rested than the last time she could remember. Days passed differently, and the only time that time itself seemed to change was by Struckers doing. Somewhere between her journeys upstairs, she had accepted that Strucker controlled her fate completely. He controlled if she lived, or if she died.

When the guards came to get her, for the first time she offered no resistance. Didn't even both getting out of bed as she stared at the wall with blank eyes. They dragged her limp form up to the chair and tied her down in silence.

Romina stared straight ahead through the blinding lights with unseeing eyes. Her head seemed to sway slightly, as if it were a struggle to hold it up. As always, he stepped out of the lights as if he were a god descending from the light of the heavens - or perhaps a hell too bright. Lucifer had always wanted to shine too bright, hadn't he. In his relaxed hand he held a gun.

She realized she was going to die, right here in the cold barren room with the chipped, blood stained, cement floor. Strucker held her life in his hands, and soon he was going to crush it; snuff it out as easy as a light. But maybe there was still something she could do before she was freed from this hell.

Romina raised her head and looked at Strucker through hooded lids. Beads of moisture dotted her forehead and various strands of hair were stuck to her face.

When she spoke her voice was hoarse and came out as a whisper, though her eyes penetrated his with a newfound will. "There are two other agents: Wanda and Pietro Maximov."

* * *

A/N:

Well that chapter is finally finished!

I received a lot less views this time. I'm not sure if it's because people didn't like the last chapter, couldn't be bothered, or you felt it was too short to comment on. But honestly I'd absolutely love feedback and what you guys think (constuctive crit. or what you didn't like welcome too!), especially with the amount of time and effort writing this takes. You're not forced to but i'd really appreciated my readers :)

To Miki Rukia: Not quite the same Mikael ;) Thanks for the reviews!

To BerbDCat: I have to plead the fifth on your review.

To Dustfinger's cheering section: Thanks for the review. Sorry that this chapter was probably a little more horrifying than the last.


	8. December 7, 2010

_A/N:_

 _Alright, this is a long chapter. As in nearly 10,000 words long chapter. I decided not to split it but let me know if you want shorter chapters instead :)_

 _I also took the lazy FF route by doing some time jumps in this chapter instead of keeping a flow. I know, I'm lazy, it won't happen again._

* * *

Strucker chuckled and laced his hands behind his back. "That's impossible."

She said nothing in response, her lids lowering as her head sunk.

He came to stand in front of her, "You see I've been doing extensive research on the sets of twins here. They all very much love their homeland. No, you are lying. What do you lie about, Romina?" He asked, his voice quiet, complative as he raised her chin.

Her thoughts were muddled and as she looked into the familiar eyes - as cold and harsh as the Nordic sea - she saw no reason to lie. She had tried, many times. He hurt her for it. He had seen through this lie before she could even blink. Romina had once believed she was smart, had believed that her degree made her intelligent. Strucker had proved how very wrong she was.

"I am not Sokovian. I am Romanian and proud of it." She said and she saw him smile in response; he took a step away from her. She permitted her eyes to close, waiting for the bang as his gun went off.

"Why did you want the twins dead then? Surely if you're Romanian you had little reason to be here, much less so for knowing the twins." He mused. She furrowed her eyebrows at his questions, confused why he was so interested, though her eyes never opened.

What did it matter anymore? She was never going to get them. Fate had once again championed them as her victor, while it laughed mercifully as Romina was forced to watch them from the sidelines. "They killed my brother."

For a second nothing happened. Then she jumped in fright as something hit her lap. It's weight was light and the object was small. Her eyes startled open and she looked down to see what it was. She stared at it for several moments while she tried to understand what he had thrown in her lap.

It was a small red booklet with golden script it on. Her eyes scanned over it several times, not understanding what the meaning of Struckers actions were. "Uniunea Europeanâ: România. Pasaport."

Oh. Oh. That was a passport. That was a Romanian passport, with a little tear on the bottom right. That was why Strucker had smiled. He knew. He had always known. Who she was. There had never been any possibility of escape, not even in the crevices of her mind she dared not look into. Her eyes squeezed shut and she felt the trickle of tears escape tightly screwed lids. That was her passport he had had the entire time.

"It only hurts you when you lie to Hydra." His voice was soothing now, nearly taking on a fatherly role. He wiped away a tear from her cheek as he knelt down in front of her. "Will you lie to me again?" He inquired.

"No." She whispered, eyes on her lap.

He gave a nod of approval. She felt him unshackle the chains. "Good. That makes me very happy to hear, Volunteer 78. I am going to release you back to your cell. As a tip, thinker smarter and be stronger if you want to survive from now on. It will be the key to survival down there. And one last thing . . . when the time comes, will you cooperate?"

Romina nodded, her limp hair swaying with the tiny movement. She felt the two guards lift her by the arms and begin to take her out. When she neared the door Strucker spoke again. "Oh Romina? Aren't you the least bit curious as to who made me aware about you?"

She gave no response. "It was your neighbor, Volunteer 54. We had a little chat earlier. He was very wiling to betray you for a meal."

And then the guards dragged her back to her cell. She laid in bed and stared at the cement wall. As she thought about his words and the man lying in the cot right besides her, she felt nothing at all. Upon the revelation that he had known all along, that all he had wanted from her was the whole truth from her lips, something had changed inside of her.

At some point the pain - both mental and physical - had reached its nadir, and remained steady at that level. They said the sky was the limit, and Romina supposed this was true. Any further and you would float off into oblivion, smothered in darkness and isolation. She wished Strucker had broken that ceiling. She wished she had been allowed to disappear into the darkness, untethered to the world.

Thinking upon what her neighbor had done brought out no feelings of betrayed, no anger, no loss. It just was. He had done it for a measly meal. But it was her who hadn't divulged the whole truth to Strucker. It was her fault for the pain she had caused herself.

Romina continued to stare nearly unblinking at the grey wall.

-O-

For as long as she could she tried not to move. But the thirst came, quietly at first, nothing more than a dull want. As time passed and she ignored the meals she was given, opting instead to sleep or stare at the wall, the want became a need. Her mouth began to feel like a desert, parched and cracked.

Licking her lips she swung her legs out of bed, wincing at the headache pounding into the back of her skull like a hammer in a slow rhythmic beat. She saw there were three food bowls laid out on the floor. Three for three days. But there was no water.

With agony she forced herself up and found her injured leg shook as she attempted to put weight on it. Romina hobbled to the door and tried to see if there were any guards; there weren't.

As she began to wake up from her mental stupor it was only now she heard the desperate cries and pleas. Her brow furrowed. Had she really tuned them out for the last few days?

She leaned against the glass and let out a shaken, pained breath. Her hip protested at the additional weight it had to carry as she leaned her entire weight on her good leg. She thought back to Struckers words. This was a test, it had to be. The rest didn't have water either, but they hadn't received her advice.

Why was he doing this to them in the first place? It didn't seem personal, when he had spoken there was no punishment in his voice, merely a casual remark. Her mind jumped to the tests they performed; everyone turned out dead. Maybe this was another one of their tests, maybe those who survived without water would be strong enough to survive?

She shook her head at that and gripped her hip. That was impossible, everyone needed water to survive after three days. No one was immortal - it was simply impossible, defying the laws of their universe. Her bony finger began tapping her head as her eyes narrowed while she thought.

Her eyes drifted down to the food bowls. Why give them only food and not water? With painstakingly slow movements and bearing her teeth in pain, she lowered herself into the ground. Dipping a few in the freshest bowl she lifted the grey mush to her lips. Her tongue swept it away. Salt. Definetly salt.

Why on earth would they take away water and then dehydrate them faster? To make them more desperate, more prone to find -

Her eyes widened. More prone to seek out water. This wasn't a slow annihilation of all of them. Strucker really hadn't been lying to her. He - or whoever ran this place - was testing their strength, their will, their ingenuity. From the second she had stepped foot inside the castle walls, everything had become an experiment.

Slow hobbling on her leg she made her way, wall to wall, her fingers reaching out and touching the cool surface. Her eyes squinted in the darkness as she tried to find something, anything.

Maybe there wasn't even water, maybe she would be rewarded with water.

In the darkness she found nothing, and had already walked around the room once. In desperation she looked under the bed and found only the darkness. Now, globs of food lay on the floor next to the bowls as she had scooped everything out, trying to find a clue.

Swallowing, she decided to stay awake until it was silent enough to think properly. Throughout the time she tried to hum to herself, but her voice was raspy and she stopped soon after, wincing at how fragile and sickly she sounded.

When pinching herself didn't help her anymore she lightly pushed at the wound and cried out in pain. That helped her stay awake until the voices died.

Once more she scored the walls for a clue or source. Her hand went over every ridge and crevice in the cracking cement wall. She trailed her hand over the glass wall and grunted in pain as she maneuvered herself between over and under the bed.

At the last wall she cried in frustration, leaning against the castle walls. Her head found uneven terrain. There were cracks, ridges, bumps, and small clumps of something soft. She closed her eyes and smiled.

It reminded her of when she used to go for walks with Mama e Papa. Romina had loved to get dirty by climbing over all the rocks and the moss and -

Her head jerked back and she stared at the dark wall. Moss. That had been the softness. Moss meant there was enough moisture nearby for it to grow, and it certainly wasn't the dungeons that caused it. They had made sure to keep the air dry, this she knew by her flaking skin and chapped lips.

Her hands feverishly reached out and pulled all the moss they could find into the palms of her hands. The result was a small scrape in her hand that wrlled up in tiny bead of blood, but she barely noticed. The need to hydrate was overwhelming.

With enough moss in her hand she crammed it like she had done when she was little with cookies: all in her mouth at once.

She pressed down and felt little trickles of moisture run down her throat. A moan of relief escaped her lips and then she began crying. Oh, she had forgotten how good water tastes, how cool and wonderful it felt. She cried harder; it came out muffled through the moss. Her body racked with sobs as she used the wall to support her.

When she had calmed herself the spit out the now compact glob and tried to stuff it back onto the wall, vainly hoping it would stick - it fell to the floor with a soft smack.

Her tongue pressed to the sharp jagged ridges and ran sideways as she tried to find more water. Tears of pain sprung up in her eyes as the rocks cut shallowly into her tongue. And then all of a sudden she found it. A small trickling stream of water.

Romina didn't even give a thought as to how she looked pressed up against the cold castle wall and groaning. Her tongue lapped so hard at the small source her teeth scraped over stone and flecks of dirt.

When her face ached and her leg screamed from the weight, reluctantly she took a step back. It wasn't enough to sate her, not at all. But that's not what they were looking to do.

They just wanted to see who could survive longer than four days. Romina might be unconscious when they found her, but there was just enough water in her system to survive.

-O-

The sounds had died down and now only an eerily silence crept through the hallway. Her muscles had cramped in protest at being still for so long, but it was the surest way to conserve the little water going through her system. Three times had she been up to get more, and now she lay, trying to sleep in the silence.

And then her eyes fluttered open as she saw a guard remove the three bowls and place a bowl twice its size inside of her room. Now, Romina held no fear for be guards and she heaved herself off the bed.

What she saw in the bowl was her own reflection, waving back at her. She grabbed the bowl greedily but gently and then threw her head back and felt the cool water. It runs down her cheeks and chin and her belly began to feel full - the first time in days.

Even when she had consumed everything, evening going as far as to wipe it away from cheeks and chin and lock that too, Romina still proceeded to lick the bowl, careful to make sure not even a drop was wasted.

It was funny, living down here. She had never quite thought about the important of basic survival needs. Never had she given too much thought to warmth, to socialization, to sunlight, to water. Now, everything began overwhelming when it was handed to her. It was enough to sob with relief and deep gratitude.

-O-

The door slid open and the guards, with hands behind their back, stared down at her. Her eyes flickered between the two of them and all she saw was her own gaunt face in the masks.

She saw her own dark eyes, wide in fear and the flecks of suspicion in them. Still, the guards did nothing. One of them handed her something and it took her a moment to realize they weren't going to beat her with the sticks - they were crutches.

Paranoid still filled her and she slowly got up, legs pressed against he bed frame ready to cower if they made any movements. But they stayed still and hesitantly her hands wrapped around the crutches. She took them and it was like a sign for the guards to began moving. Settling down on them she followed after them with unsure footing. Never had she tried crutches before. She passed a window smeared with what looked like oatmeal and feces. Whoever was in there, man or woman she couldn't tell, lay unmoving in the corner.

They walked through hallways and then all the way at the end, was an elevator. They stood by her side but didn't accompany her as she stepped in. Outside they pressed a button and the doors closed, entrapping her in the steel cell. As it shook to a start she leapt in fright. Her hands pressed against the walls as she backed into the corner.

After what felt to be an eternity the elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors opened. There stood two other guards. She followed them in silence, along the dingy abandoned looking hallway that carried with it the faint smell of musk.

Two giant oak doors were in front of. Although they looked run down now she imagined them in their full glory, when the castle varied with it life and wealth. A guard heaved the door open and she was helpless but to step instead.

As the door closed behind her she stared. The immersive wealth she was surrounded by was so jarring from the squalor she had been subject to her what felt to have been nearly the entirety of her life.

There were giant painted portraits and beautiful landscapes that hung on the walls. The fire was roaring in the giant gold and bronze laced fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room. The oblong windows were framed by heavy velvet curtains tied back with golden rope. In the middle of the room, besides the polar bear rug, were two tall chairs and a table that held candles and a small bowl of what looked like cookies.

A man stood up front the chair and dusted off his pants. It was the first face besides Struckers she had seen since she came here, and certainly the first suit she had seen since she volunteered. His fine red hair was combed back. He made a gesturing motion. "You must be Ms. Zuitev. Come, have a seat. I want to have a little chat with you."

Her eyes flickered along the room. The sense of paranoia was smothering her. Was this another of Struckers test? Was she supposed to come? The man made another gesture and her feet began walking, nearly stumbling, across the rugs.

The closer she got the more his face seemed to wrinkle in disgust. Shame warmed her cheeks. She didn't even know what she looked like anymore, much less how she smelled. It was the first time she became aware of herself.

"Take a seat." He said.

As she eased her way into the face she fiercely fought showing any signs of pain. He sat down to and then picked up the bowl and held it towards her, "Cookie? Come on, I don't bite." He smiled.

With a shaky breath she reached out slowly, never breaking eye contact with the man with piercing blue eyes. Why did all the evil men have blue eyes? Perhaps it was one of the gypsy curses her mama always went on about, a curse for abandoning their heritage and family. Any man with blue eyes she ever met wanted to hurt her, one way or another.

Licking her lips her hand darted out to grab a cookie before retracting her hand with lightning speed against her chest. "Take a bite Ms. Zuitev, it tastes delicious, I'll tell you that much. Took 'em with me when I came from America."

The nibbled the very edge of the cookie and tasted sweetness and the familiar cosy warmth that came with eating a cookie, but fear and paranoia overrode any pleasure she otherwise would be received and quickly she placed the near-uneaten cookie down on the edge of the table. The man shrugged, "suit yourself."

"You probably don't know me: I'm Alexander Pierce. Now, I wanted to thank you for volunteering. I appreciate those who are brave enough to want to help their country and the human race."

Did he know what was happening down in the dungeons? Did she dare tell him if he didn't know? Would he even help her? He seemed like the business men she had seen walking with purpose in Bucharest, their suits flapping in the wind. The kind of men who wanted results but didn't care about how they were achieved. He seemed like one of those men, and if were possible, she settled further into hopelessness.

"It's come to my attention you study biotechnology. You're perhaps the first Sokovian of intelligence we've had here, and -"

"Romanian! I'm Romanian." She corrected him so quickly the words nearly all slurred together.

He shrugged, "it's all the same to me, you Eastern Europeans. Look, my point I wanted to make is, we looked into it. You're getting good grades. Strucker assures me you're not going to go running off or making the wrong choices anytime soon. So what if I gave you an offer, one that may just guarantee your own survival too?"

"Will it hurt?"

He chuckled. "Well now it shouldn't. We've been having some issues getting the experiments to work properly. Something isn't adding up and we'd like not to have any more experiments going on. This one already comes at a great risk to us. So how about, under strict supervision, you get to work along side our scientists to come up with a solution. There's - well roughly, I'd say - given the past few days rapid change in volunteers, about eight weeks left for you to help find a solution. You find it, you might just be in luck. And if you don't, well I wish you the best of luck - and may you be strong enough. Think of it like an internship. You'll be working along side some of the worlds best scientists, and hey, you might just learn a thing or two from them."

She stared at him. He seemed to be serious, yet the way he spoke so casually. She looked around, trying to see if Strucker was there. He wasn't and she looked back at the man. He seemed impatient for an answer. Romina ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. Finally she spoke, "Will I see the sky? And the sun?" She whispered.

"Course you will kiddo. So I'll take that as a yes?" He asked.

Tentatively she nodded. He smiled.

-O-

When she had gone back down there was set of clothing waiting for her. It was a light grey sweater and sweatpants. And underpants. It was nothing but a pair of dull black cotton ones but she scrunched it up in her hands anyway and reveled in the feeling. Discarding the old dress she quickly put on the new clothes. She would add that to things she immensely appreciated now that it had been taken from her and given back: underwear.

As she hobbled through the hallway she refused to even look at her traitorous neighbor, the one who had thrown her to the wolves. But she didn't care, not anymore. The pain of betrayed was muted underneath lethargy.

The went through more of the maze of the castle and she became aware she'd never find her way back again if she needed to. Not on her own, at least.

And then there were the two siblings - the two twins! That must have been one of the pairs Strucker was talking about. They sat each in their own cell, side by side. They looked like the ones they had in the dungeons. Then there were the other set of twins.

And then Wanda Maximov. Romina slowed to a near standstill as she saw the brunette. Her hair, too long and unkempt, was fanned out around her as she slept on the bed, arms wrapped around herself. She too, wore the same grey dress Romina had.

Then there was Pietro Maximov. His hair, the same color as his sister had grown shaggy and now brushed his shoulders. His coarse neared was wild. He sat in a corner, one leg extended and the other drawn up. He used his hands to play a mock beat and his extended foot moved as well, as if creating an entire song. Or perhaps he was extremely impatient.

As she passed his eyes flashed up and then connected with the only available face: hers. Now she did still. He had been up here all along. And she couldn't ignore the fact he didn't look anywhere as close to death as her. Thinner, yes, but she still saw the muscles ripple on his arm as he moved.

Hate bloomed inside of her and then deflated with the same speed. It didn't matter. A prod in the back brought her back to her senses and she continued onwards, leaving the twins behind.

Even before she entered the room she could hear it, the clacking of keyboards, the whirling of machines, the beeping of other technology. The soft murmurs of the scientists drifted through the door and into the hallway. She smelled coffee. Not the bitter kind she had made at home, but the expensive kind like they had at coffee shops.

The room had various desks all with computers on them. The scientists in their white lab coats sat there and clacked away. Three large screens hung on the wall and code in greens, blues, and yellows slid down the screens in a lazy manor. Wires, thick and thin, snaked along the floor.

Romina was directed over to a desk with her own computer. As she sat down and the guards left she allowed her eyes to wander, subtly so as not to pique anyone's interest. But it was no use, for as much as she tried to subtly observe those around her, they were unabashedly analyzing her. Studying the new girl, the volunteer who had come up here.

Finally one of them spoke, his accent a heavy Russian, "Jesus! What is this, ah? We get new girl who smells like the pig barn who had to much kapusta. Worse! Make little girl take shower. How do I concentrate on work when I now concentrate on not dying." He demanded of one of the guards.

Romina was startled to see the guard coming towards her had no helmet on. She wasn't sure what she had expected; she never gave it much thought. They had turned into inhuman forces to her, ones that had the suit and another more. For a while she had thought they were robots.

Now she saw a clean shaven man with short blonde hair and warm brown eyes with short white lashes. "Follow me." He said, his voice neutral.

The crutches clacked on the stone floor as he led her through the castle. He entered a room and she followed. He closed the door behind her.

There was a bed with a real pillow and blankets - albeit the cheap hospital kind, all synthetics - but a real bed nonetheless. More importantly was a window, a small window in the castle wall but it was there, high above her. She would know when the sun rose and it when it set.

He opened another door and she saw it was a bathroom. "This is yours." He said.

" _Mine?_ " She thought.

"It's yours for the remainder of your time here. Don't fuck it up or they're throwing you in the dungeons again."

She entered the bathroom to see a clean toilet and a shower stall. A small sink lay adjacent to it. Inside the shower was a nondescript bottle of shampoo and a white odorless soap. "You are American." She stated.

"What gave it away?" He joked. "Hey, you didn't notice anything when we put you back down in the dungeons did you?"

She thought back to the time in Struckers room. He looked sheepish for reasons she couldn't comprehend. "We had run low on guards, some problem outside the wall. I'm usually just up here keeping watch over the scientists and such. Anyway, they needed us to come down but anyone who goes down needs these special suits. All this kevlar and shit. I'm surprised you didn't see my suit was way to big."

She swallowed. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Just making talk. Look, Baratynsky wasn't kidding, you smell like the unwanted consequences of a Taco Bell run."

"Taco bell?"

"It's a fast food joint we got back in the states. Look, just get into the shower."

As she looked him she didn't see a leer on his face or an unwanted interested as he asked her to get naked and hop into the shower. "Can you wait outside?"

"Sorry, no can do. Until they get surveillance up and running you can't be left alone."

Her eyes flickered up to the bare wall. Where there already cameras? sighing she turned around and stripped down, leaving her clothes in a pile. At least there was a shower curtain, and with the opaque glass windows she got a little privacy.

As the water hit her she shuddered at the cold. Blinking rapidly threw the stream she adjusted the dial until finally it became a lukewarm temperature. She threw her head back and allowed the water to hit her face and run down her body.

Slowly she began scrubbing away the grime. The water darkened as it swirled around the drain before disappearing. When she went to shampoo her hair she began struggling. Her hair was so coarse and tangled it felt like the deep parts of the forest with all its bristles and tangled undergrowth.

To her quiet relief the guard said nothing about time. Every moment she fought her hair she thought he was going to bark orders at her, yank her out of the shower. But he remained silent, almost. After a while he began humming to himself. It sounded like a pop song, but one she wasn't familiar with. Was it a new tune?

When she had finally succeeded in unknotting half her hair and the shampoo could properly make its way to her scalp she considered it a half won victory. Without conditioner she just couldn't do it.

The soap picked up grime like a vacuum to the ground. Multiple times she had to wash the soap itself under the waters spray. A second time dirt and grime swirled on the shower floor, darkening the water before it ran into the uncovered drain.

She pushed it under the armpits, now full of dark hair and she rubbed between her legs, making sure to be clean everywhere.

The bandage had come partially off in the water and gritting her teeth she ripped off the last parts of the dirty material. It fell onto the ground with a 'slosh'.

It was a scar that would never heal. The flesh had risen and puckered and was now a gnarled bump of skin. There were valleys and ridges in it with pink hills. She hissed as she ran her finger along the outskirts of the mangled near-healed wound. She wondered if she had received proper treatment if it would still look like this.

With reluctance she turned off the water and stepped out. Two stale white towels laid on a rack. As she twists the second towel into her hair, she saw that at least the blonde guard was looking at the floor.

She put her clothes back on and with a futile attempt ran a hand through her hair. Finally he looked back at her. The question, one she had thought of the entire time in the shower, tumbled from her lips. "How many died?"

He let out a long breath as his eyes turned upwards as he thought. Then shrugged. "Can't say, I'm not one of the guards that works in the chambers. I imagine quite a few."

That much she had deduced by herself, but she stayed quiet after that, afraid she would overstep her place and be thrown back into the dungeons.

As she sat down and began reading through the documents of all the works they had done, she was more and more pulled into it. So they had found alien technology. She remembered the attack on New York of course. But her had no idea they held a staff of power of this magnitude. And it was right here in the castle. They were experimenting on the volunteers, hoping they'd receive enhanced abilities. Yet every one had died, all with the same affects and cause of death. She hadn't found the document files for the volunteers yet and she itched the find the one of her friend. But she wasn't sure what she could do to help this along.

Romina wasn't some kind of genius with an IQ through the roof. She was still on her Bachelors in Romania - not even a school known for its biotechnology. She was out of her element, and all she could assume was that Pierce had been desperate to unlock the key to making enhanced humans if he had asked her to help. Well, threatened her with her sure death if she failed inside the eight weeks. Of course she had already thought she was going to die twice.

She hated it, the way her life was constantly dangled in front of her. She remained skittish and confused within her own mind. Sometimes she felt hope, that maybe there was a chance, and others, a relief that her suffering was finally coming to an end. They pulled her both ways to whatever they saw fit - to whatever fulfilled their own purposes.

"So how it's going?" A voice asked.

Her head snapped up. It was a boy only a few years older than her, with a shaved scalp and dark green eyes. He raised a thin brow and looked down at her over his thick glasses. "I'm McCreary by the way."

"No talking with the prisoner!" A guard snapped. Sighing McCreary gave an apologetic shrug and settled back into his seat.

-O-

For three weeks she had sat working on the problem of making the alien technology compatible with human DNA. Yet she barely did any work. She sat and stared at the screen and occasionally her eyes shifted over to the others who were working. Why should she bother if she was going to die anyway? It was inevitable and she wouldn't solve this problem anyway.

There was a crash as McCreary stumbled into her desk and then the whole monitor went black. She jumped out of her seat. "Sorry about that!" He said.

"No talk-"

"Yes I know, I know." McCreary interrupted the guard. "But now she can't do the job she was assigned so right I can fix the computer or you can go to Strucker and tell him you wasted time."

The dark skinned man pursed his lips before nodding and crossing his arms. "Make it fast."

McCreary got to work and disappeared underneath the desk. A minute later he came back up. He pushed the power button and the computer started back up again.

As she went back to 'working' a black box popped up in the screen. It looked similar to the code she saw up on the screens.

"U there?" Someone typed.

She paused, afraid to write. Finally she typed in, "yes. Ho is this?"

"McCreary."

"I am not supsed to talk to u. Pleez dont kontakt me."

"Relax Romania. This is a shell program. No one even knows. Think of it like, I get in as much trouble as you do."

"I don want truble."

"Your English is God awful. And the guards don't know what they're looking at. They're hired for brawn not for brain believe me.

She didn't reply. But she didn't need to say anything because he began typing again. She felt a light trickle of sweat building at the sides of the temples.

"How is it down there?"

She didn't know how she felt, or where to begin describing what happened and still happens down there. So she wrote nothing.

" I didn't know they were killing people. Got asked to work on some tech they had found, not from earth. So of course I jumped at the chnce to be one of the first to work with it. Didn't sign up for death tho. Don't agree wth Hydra."

It felt like he was dangling this opportunity in front of her to agree, that she didn't agree with their deaths. That she feared Hydra. But it was all a test. She gave no replied. Right before she closed down the shell window she saw he had written again. "Fine, ignore me Romania."

-O-

Finally she found the nerve to truly search for Alex. Carefully she searched through all the files she had access to Alexandra Antoneva.

As she double clicked the file it opened up and before she had time to blink a giant message had appeared across the screen: ACCESS BLOCKED.

Hurriedly she closed it. Then she tried again. It was the same message. Finally she decided to open up the chat she had had with McCreary. "Y can I not open file?"

"File? More specific."

" ON volunteer."

"Idk. Probably to personal. Now stop wasting times looking at them and get back to work."

" finding failure in expieremt is work."

" sure. But you know those files only details their death, not the DNA. That's what you have access to. Get back to it."

Sighing she shut down the chat and accepted she couldn't look at Alex. Part of her had hoped there was a profile photo of her on the document, so she could see what she looked like healthy and _alive._

Sighing she wet back to looking at the DNA sequences and how it responded to the cube. That's what they called it here. The cube. It was gruesome, as bad as a nuclear bomb.

Except inside of a nuke that would sporadically attack parts of the DNA at random, this began from one end and kept moving, slowly and surely, destroying everything in its path until it came to the end. She knew the volunteers were dead before that stage, there was no way they could survive that amount of DNA damage before they succumbed.

She couldn't understand it and she definitely couldn't understand how she was supposed to have a solution in five weeks. This would take centuries to figure out.

-O-

There was only three weeks left and she heard the invisible drum beat in her head the entire time. They ones they placed at executions as the victim stepped up to the noose. She wished they would get it over with, the wait for agony. She tried to enjoy her time.

She relished the sun every time it warmed her face, she thoroughly enjoyed her warm showers and the luxury of shampoo and soap. She thanked the gods above - not that she believed they existed, not after what she had put the volunteers through - for her linen bed.

Over the weeks that guards had relaxed on their strict treatment towards her. She still wasn't allowed to get the snacks and cakes the rest of the staff received, and she was still served the grey mush for food, but she could walk now.

As excuses to wake herself up she took little walks outside. The forest had looked so beautiful, even though all of the leaves had fallen off once again. And the cool wind caressed her pale skin. Every excuse she could get she would go outside just to feel the life around her. Still, she could never forget the death that had surrounded her in the dungeon. No matter how much she looked out across the land and looked up into the bright blue sky.

Someone joined her outside and leaned against the wall next to her: McCreary. He held a cup of coffee in his hand and a sugary donut. She knew those were the ones with jelly inside. Her stomach rumbled. He moved closer to her so that no space was between them.

He handed her the donut. "Come on, take it."

She stiffened.

"Trust me there's no guards and no ones watching. Plus, what's the worst case, right? You only got two more weeks left."

Finally she took it from his arm and quickly bit into it, let out a sigh of happiness. When she had nearly inhaled the entire thing she wipes the corners of her mouth from the glaze. He handed her the coffee. "Why are you doing this?" She asked.

"I told you, I don't agree with the way they treat volunteers - treated," he corrected himself, "look I follow a code of conduct with experiments. Most of the scientific community does."

Finally he turned to face her, resting his arm on the wall, "Romania, you've been given a second chance. Find out how to fix the problem and you can live. You can live and be powerful and do what you came to do. You didn't just come to Sokovia to volunteer for fun. You're stronger than you realize." He told her and before she could respond he had turned away and walked back inside.

She stared at his retreating body. He was right. She did come here for a mission.

She might die trying, but he was right. She was strong. She was a fighter, just like her brother had been. And this wasn't for her, it was for her brother. If she could just keep quiet, so quiet not even Strucker realised, she might be able to complete her task. It wouldn't be difficult, telling Strucker the twins weren't right for Hydra, that they were a liability.

But first she needed to survive herself. The twins couldn't be her focus, she couldn't even think about them. She marched back inside, sat down, and for the first time in weeks, she really began looking at the DNA, really began looking at how the cube destroyed it.

-O-

For a week she had barely gotten any sleep and now her eyes held dark circles underneath them. Coffee cups, new and old, were scattered along her desk. Frustration had become a constant the longer she stared at that which she didn't understand. It was a living breathing thing, and it was attacking the human body. No, it wasn't quite living or breathing. It seemed to be some odd thing in between, some mix between an aerobic and anaerobic life form. It had some sort of intelligence, well beyond that of human compression.

So how was she supposed to tell it not to attack human DNA? There were no ways of communication, no ways of control. Like she had predicted before this would take decades, possibly even centuries to unravel the technologies complexities. Time she didn't have.

With a sigh she stood up and collected as many mugs as she could carry into the washroom. The entire building was odd, as if the rooms had been erected with little hindsight. There was an entire room that only had a large sink in it for the dishes. The kitchen was in another room entirely - she wasn't allowed in there, though. Only the scientists and guards.

The moon had risen high in the sky and the only light in the research room came from Rominas own computer and the three coding screens, always running. She had coded a little, back in her first year of university. Whatever was flying through the screen was far to advanced for her.

As she began unloading the cups in the far back of the room the door swung shut. Looking behind her shoulder she saw it was a guard. She must be under surveillance again. Turning around she began doing the dishes.

They had someone who came in at night and cleaned everything up, but Romina never saw them. The water turned on and sprayed her arms as she began to clean the dishes. The tap was aprubtly shut off. Turning around she saw it was the guard. Something in his dark eyes made her move away from him. She walked backwards and he followed her until her back hit the metal table behind her. "They let you walk around here like you _belong_." He sneered. He spoke in Sokovian. "I've been watching you walk up here for weeks, looking smug and walking around with such - such arrogance!" He spat.

"I am just doing the job Strucker assigned." She replied, her tone level as she raised her arms in surrender.

"You should be in the cell rotting." He spat on the ground. "If you had just died one of my brothers or sisters would have been allowed to live. But here you stand in their place. They sacrifice themselves for this country and you are a traitorous bitch." His logic was flawed, but she kept silent. "But I know how to avenge them." And then he descend on her.

Screaming she shoved him away and the ran. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back; she collided with the table. "Let go of me!"

Grabbing a porcelain cup on the table she swung it over his head. He roared in anger and as she tried to get away his hand wrapped around her waist and swung her back. The air left her. She saw him grapple with something at his waist and as she tried to move again he lashed out.

There was the sound of a tear and she saw bright liquid spatter onto his face.

He gave her a maniacal grin and then his arm raised up, knife clutched so tightly in his hands his knuckles whitened and he descended upon her.

But it never happened. The knife never pierced her. She saw a man stood behind the guard now, and had began lifting him above the ground. A metal hand had wrapped around his pale throat and she winced as she heard the crunching of sinew and vessels. His eyes bulged from his head. Still, the hand squeezed. And then the last twitch from the guard stopped. The man dropped him.

She stared at the guard, laying lifeless on the floor with his throat at an odd angle and streams of blood flowing from nose and eyes. Before she had time to react the man was upon her.

The cool metal wrapped around her throat and dug in. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but she knew he wasn't trying to kill her; not yet, at least. Just a little more pressure and he would be there. Somehow she could feel the raw power thrumming through the metal. This weapon wasn't just something inanimate meant to take away life. It was a work of art.

Her eyes travelled upwards, taking in the metal that moved with each fractional shift in his movement. They trailed upwards until she got to his face.

Hair, greasy and clumped together in strands hung in front of his face limply. It acted as a dirty curtain, nearly hiding his face. But they couldn't hide the piercing blues eyes that stared straight at her.

With conscious effort, she managed to suppress a shiver. She saw no emotion in his eyes. All she saw reflected back at her, was herself. They were eyes as blue and dark as a glacier - and just as cold. They were the eyes of a killer. her breath stopped and she swallowed. The metal pads of his fingers seemed to press into her neck, just for a moment.

There was a momentary pull of his eyebrows and suddenly she understood. He was gauging her, surveying her as a predator does when it's figuring out if its target is prey or not. He was still deciding.

While her breath came out in pants, his was even. Taking the guards life had meant nothing to him, and taking hers would be something he'd do just as calmly.

So why hadn't he yet? The man had had no hesitation before, so why was he now? Subconsciously she knew the only way to get out alive was if he let go of her. It was an ancient feeling, something she knew with every fibre in her being. It was an animalistic instinct that told her she had already lost if it got physical.

She didn't move. "Thank-you." She breathed. He responded with pressing his fingers in again, seemingly startled at her soft voice. But his expression remained emotionless.

His other hand came up to her face and she saw it was normal. The pads of his fingers, icy from being in the outside, pressed into the skin on her cheek. When he pulled back he flipped his hand and then seemed fixated on the blood that coated his fingers. Slowly he waved his fingers.

Rominas eyes slid shut. There was nothing more to do. Pleading wouldn't work. Whatever he was, wherever he was deep within the recesses of his own mind, he wouldn't hear her begging. Hydra had done this to him, she bet. Maybe had been born like this, or perhaps they had changed him later in life. Whatever the answer was, she couldn't blame him for her death.

At least it was a man - or whatever he was - that had no emotional ties to her. He would do it because he could. At least it was this man, and not the guard.

"Winter Soldier!" A voice yelled down he hallway. And then the metal pressing against his throat was gone.

When she opened her eyes she saw the flash of metal as he disappeared out of the room. For a moment more she stared at the doorway, afraid it was a joke and he'd come back to kill her. But upon hearing Struckers scolding voice she knew otherwise.

Romina slid down the leg of the table and then her breathing turned wild as her arm flew up to her throat, already turning sore. Blood poured down her cheek and spattered onto her arm and the floor. She hadn't even realised be had slashed her face until the pain began to settle in and the adrenaline began to leave her body.

She had been about to die and then some man, some man who was far away, had saved her. He had nearly killed her because he saw her as a threat, and then Strucker had saved her. Was it on purpose?

Her hammering heart began to slow down as she sat propped up against the table. The scene played over and over again. He had held her and had been gauging her trying to see if she was a threat, hurting her in the process.

"Oh." She breathed. Oh, she might just have understood how the cube worked. How the half intelligent lifeformed cube worked.

Struggling upwards she began to go into the science room. But as she felt her sweater sleeve soak in the blood that ran for her face she decided a visit to medical would probably be the best course of action.

-O-

She had waited for seven hours for a doctor to show up, all the while using her bundled up sweater as a way to mop up the blood. It must have been bad by the way the doctors eyes widened in shock. He had ushered her inside and after giving her a sedative had hastily stitched her up. Not with usual precision and care, but just enough to seal the wound, to stop it from getting infected or bleeding out more.

It was deep, that much she knew. It ran from the ridge of her nose and all the way down to her jaw in an uneven diagonal line.

By the time the doctor was finished the scientists had gathered and sat at their tables or in clusters, chatting with each other over morning coffee. She walked up to McCreary, "I have the ans-"

"No talking!" The guard snapped. McCreary eyes widened, taking in her appearance before he responded to the guard.

McCreary held up his hand, "If she thinks she has the solution she is more than welcome to speak." He snapped back. She threw him a thankful smile. She liked the man immensely, being nicer to her than anyone else here. She missed kindness.

The other scientists turned to look at her, "I heard a solution?" A woman inquired.

She turned to see all of them were looking at it. Romina never had nerves in the past but now she felt frightened at all the attention; she wanted to disappear. "I - uh - well . . . The cube it - it's aenerobic and aerobic right? It - it has life. I think, well it's because of yesterday, but I think it's looking for something to latch onto, something safe, yes? It keeps going, and in the process it kills the DNA . We saw it with Mijzhev and Nazdan. There were brief pauses in the sequences of DNA where the cubes powers slowed down - like - like it was trying- or almost found - something to latch onto. That's why it slow down, isn't it? If we find - no, if we change - DNA, somehow, then whoever has cubes power inside of them will be safe, I think. They become enhanced."

A dark skinned man stared at her. "Can someone translate what she just said?" He sounded as if he had spoken Portuguese his whole life.

Baratynsky stroked his small goatee thoughtfully. "I think what she means is that for the cubes energy to cooperate with the DNA, it must change. We must make the DnA compatible with the cube."

Another scientist, a woman, laughed, "And we're just expected to come up with some solution that alters the DNA to magically fit the cube? What sequences are we changing? Who genomes are we focusing on - do you even know? What chances do we stand to keep the experiment alive?" She fired question after question at Romina, her voice raising with each one.

"I believe I have the perfect solution." A voice said and all scientists whipped around. It was Dr. List. He smiled at her. "If our room of gifted scientists could use their precious time in setting up a room no gas can escape from, then we can fill it with Terregin mist. This should alter the DNA in a relatively safe method - only fifty percent chance of death - and so the energy can latch onto the DNA. Thank you for helping us solve this problem."

She gave a nod. But he wasn't done speaking. "Would you like to be the first volunteer?"

The blood drained from her face and she swallowed, "I - I -"

"Thank you, Volunteer." His smile was anything but kind, "I think it best if you got rest before your trial, and so it would be best if you were escorted to your room and given ample rest beforehand." He wave his hand and suddenly there were two guards on either side of her. McCrearys face was unreadable. She was marched back to her room and she door slammed after her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she squeezed her eyes shut and ran both hands through her hair. She had seen what the cube did. But she didn't know what the Mist would do to her. And she had no one to look to, no ways of seeing how others reacted. She was going to be the first experiment. And it was going to be soon. "Mikael, Mama e Papa, give me strength." She whispered.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _After eight long chapters, this story is finally getting somewhere._

 _Whatsername: I guess this chapter was a little anticlimactic them, but at least volunteer 54's story isnt over yet. Karmedic justice irl doesnt always work like in movies._

 _HRHPrincess: Well so far according to Rominas interpretation they did. Wars breed collateral on both sides._

 _BerbDCat: Berb, you're a superdetective and you're awesome. Strucker loves hitting two birds with one stone. But I don't want to give to much away! I hope this chapter answered some of your questions and the next coming ones will answer the rest :D and yes I adore your long reviews!_

 _HauntedCinders: thank-you for your lovely review :) It;s what I was going for._


	9. Time Unknown

_A/N:_

 _Sorry the wait again! Life happens and its busy, so I promise in the near future I'll get better. Thank-you to all the new favourites and follows! I will give you eternal love and imaginary cakes forever if you let me know what you think of this story!_

 _And in advance, sorry._

 _\- Rickety_

* * *

For the upteenth time she raked a hand through her greasy hair before resting now her elbows on her knees and burying her head in her hands. She released an anxious huff of air.

The sun had risen for three days. Staying inside the small cell was agony as she waited. Somehow it was worse now. Before she had been surrounded by people. Now there was only herself. She had remade the bed so many times it could not be any more perfect. The walls, floors, and every surface had been swiped and scrubbed clean so much that all surfaces nearly glistened.

But now she couldn't do anything but wait. Wait for death. She could hear it now. The faint sound of the executioners drums as they began a slow, steady beat. Or perhaps it was just her own heart mocking her, counting down the seconds she had left as the blood roared in her ears.

Then there was a creak as the door was scraped open. She saw two guards outside without helmets. The dark skinned one - a large hulking man - jerked his head down the hallway. Wiping sweaty palms on the pant material she stood up swiftly. Swallowing, she walks towards them. They escorted her in silence; only the sounds of boots could be heard.

Everything seemed to go slower. She saw each bright light above flash her eyes as she walked under them, every step they took towards the door seemed to go slow as they moved down the endless hallway that still wasn't long enough. She had dreamed of death, wished for it, begged for it. But now walking to the executioners office, she realized she didn't want death at all. She wanted to live. Desperation clawed its way up. The path towards List wasn't long enough.

She walked inside as the door closed behind her with a thud. Now it was only her and five scientists. Three she recognized from the science room: Baratynsky, Anderson and Kotze. Then there was List with another scientist she didn't recognize.

"Volunteer Seventy-Eight, glad you made." List said with a smile, as if she had a choice. She gave no reply. His hand swung out towards the wall of glass. "If you'd please step up the stairs and into the chamber."

Her eyes flickered to gaze into every scientists eyes. Most were impassive, some curious. But she saw no sympathy, no worry, no desire to help. Of course they wouldn't. She meant nothing. She was nothing. Strucker taught her that. She entered the glass cell; the door closed after her.

List turned her back to her to address the scientists. "This is a contained unit capable of isolating all gasses. None, not even the most toxic, will be able to permeate the glass or infiltrate this room. Now please take note of your observations. All of the subjects vitals will be able to be viewed on the screen, embedded within the glass wall." As he gestured she saw the wall that separated them come to life with a blue hue.

There was an outline of a human body, with four stats next to them. Most were backwards and with her nerves she couldn't concentrate enough to decipher them. But she did see the heart. It said her heartbeat was at 140. She was surprised it wasn't higher.

But she had tuned out to List and all off a sudden there was a sharp hiss. Her head whipped upwards to see a noxious muddy green gas spewing out from a small hole in the ceiling. The angry hissing continued as the room began filling up. "Subject! Look at us." List commanded.

Romina felt her lip tremble as she stared with unseeing eyes at the safe room, her vision blurring. This was it. She had gone to the room like a lamb to slaughter and now she stood, facing the wolves. Soon the scientists began obscured by the cloudy smoke. It tasted like metal and sulfur. And then she felt it. Her reactions was involuntary.

It was as if every cell in her body had begun exploding. But she didn't scream. As her mouth opened and her body spasmed, sending her crashing onto the floor, saliva trickled out of her mouth. The wad landed on the ground. For a brief moment her eyes flickered upwards and she saw her heart rate rising rapidly, passing 200.

Another violent shiver wracked her body and she coughed. She tried to breath but no air was coming in, as if her lungs had stopped working. Something warm and wet trickled down her nose and chin, splashing onto her hands.

As she tried to get back up onto all fours, another spasm went through her body and her jaw slammed into the ground. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. Her eyes bulged out of her face, the red veins prominent and seeming to jump out of the whites of her eyes. Something warm trickled out of her ears and ran down her neck.

She wanted to live. She didn't want to die. Not like this. But her body was fighting her; it was doing everything in its power to remain uncooperative as it responded to the gas. Shivers ran through her body as she jerked around on the floor, every muscle spamming and clenching; as if she were being shocked with a constant stream of electric current.

There was no life flashing before her eyes. She didn't think of anyone but herself. Her last thought in her quickly muddling mind was how selfish she was. Squeezing her eyes shut she welcomed the darkness and waited for the uncontrollable shaking to stop.

And they did. All was quiet and dark.

-0-

The first thing she became aware of was beeping. It was faint at first, but it grew louder the closer she swam towards consciousness. Still in the darkness she took her one. The first thing she felt was her arm, something was heavy, weighing it down. And she was lying on something soft.

There was a blanket on top of her, she thinks. But she could be wrong. The beeping grows louder as she struggles awake.

And then she breaks through the dark barrier and gasps awake, eyes flying open. The room was bright. It's sterile. Out of the corner of her eye she can see a needle in her arm and the white polished floor of a hospital.

Has she been dreaming this whole time? Was she in a car accident and then she imagined a nightmare? Horrible, agonizing long days of nightmares?

Her shoulders sagged into the mattress as she saw Strucker approaching. No, this was not a normal hospital then. There was no dreams. She crushed the naive flicker of hope and accepted she had been stupid to even think such things, even in a brain addled moment. Strucker controlled her fate and that was all there was to think about.

"Look at you Fraulein, surviving the mist. I've been hearing you gave the scientists much to clean up, though I cannot imagine more than during our little conversations." He winked.

Her throat feel sore and swollen and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Strucker tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You survived. The doctors were surprised. They thought you would be asleep longer - it's only been two days. But I know you more . . . intimately. You don't enjoy staying asleep for long."

Romina wished she could. And yet, a part of her wanted to cry in relief she was awake. She was alive. And yet, she wanted to crawl up in a ball and sob until she went to sleep again. She didn't know what to feel. Not anymore. How could she feel so relieved and so horrified at once? It was easier just to listen to Strucker. "I thought I was dead." Romina croaked.

"Well, it is not often someone survives the mist, so I've heard. But you are a little bit of a survivor, aren't you? Even when you think that's it - the light is burning out now, just he last flicker - you survive. That's is what we have accomplished together." He gave a smile similar to a predator.

Romina tried to find words but none came. She wasn't sure if she should ask about her next execution or what was going to happen now. Curiosity didn't kill the cat, just tortured it beyond recognition.

Seeming to sense what she wanted to know, he continued. "You will be in here a few days while we monitor you. Blood tests, the like. And then you will be the first new test subject. I do hope you survive, or I will be displeased." She nodded vigorously in response. "I think when you are a little better I will come with a prize . . . You have earned it after all." Romina pressed her lips together, feeling uncertain, but she nodded anyway. He sounded earnest in his words, but she would rather hide in the shadows, be unnoticed, rather than have direct attention on her in the castle, from anyone. She wished she could disappear.

Patting her hand, Strucker rose to full height and exited the room, long dark jacket swishing. At his retreating footsteps her eyes fluttered shut again.

For the next few days she was in and out of sleep. Every now and then the nausea became too great and she rolled onto her side and retched into the bucket. The most she was conscious was when the doctors created a commotion as they took her vitals and discussed her survivability rate in front of her.

Apparently they were surprised she had survived at all: temporarily paralyzed lungs, burst blood cells, damaged liver, were a few of the consequences she was awake to hear. Even then they were unsure how long she would last. They said they'd throw her body down the chute if she perished. A giggle had escaped her lips at that, and that had turned into a full blown fit of laughter until they had sedated her.

She had seen her whole family die, she had failed to avenge her brother, watch his killers get special treatment, watch her new-found sister get brutally murdered, heard the cries die out one by one as her cell mates succumbed to the scepter, been tortured, nearly killed once, and now here she was. Listening to the doctors talk about throwing her lifeless body down a chute. She' either die before the scepter, or during.

The sadness was crippling, but the glee of the absurdity of it all was beginning to crack through. Struckers little survivor. Not for much longer.

Romina pushed the sweater over her head and yanked it downwards past her waist; it sprung up again. Pulling her hair out of the sweater she gathered it all over her shoulder. It now reached mid waist, but the hair had become brittle and some strands had fallen out after the gassing.

She didn't even need to be told to get up as a guard entered the room. They had gone back to wearing helmets. _Strange,_ she though.

Romina trailed after him, still on crutches as they walked in silence. She had grown so accustomed to the silence she jumped when she heard a deep voice rumble out of the mask, "Enjoy." He said as he outside another door.

She felt her stomach lurch and her heart speed up and her breathing grew more shallow. This was the room Strucker had taken her too. She was rooted to the spot. This time there were no bright lights. "Relax". Strucker said behind her and she flinched. "You have obeyed orders, and so far I am pleased with you. Like I said, I have a reward for you." He motioned her to the center of the room and she dragged herself forwards, her crutches scraping across the ground. He gave a gleeful smile, "Bring in the prize."

Looking over her shoulder she saw a struggling man: her neighbour. The one who had betrayed her. He fought against the two guards but he had become malnourished and stood no chance. Finally she got to look at him, really look.

By the deepness of his voice she had always suspected him to be a short stocky man. But this man was tall and thin as a rail. His sharp bones seemed to jut out at all angles and his cheekbones were so hollow he looked like a skeleton - he was as pale as one too. The malnutrition had made his hair an unnaturally pale blonde, it hung limp and lifeless.

They shoved him against the wall opposite the door and he crumbled onto the floor. Blinking rapidly he tried to get up but the guards had already hoisted him up and shoved him against the wall; they stepped away. His eyes, dark as coal, flitted around the room.

Strucker came up behind her and whispered in her ear; his hot breath stirred her hair, "Take your revenge, Ms. Zuitev. Reclaim the loss you suffered at his hands. Here." He placed something heavy and cool in her hand.

Looking down she saw it was a gun. The movies never said how heavy they were. How cold they felt. Nor how lethal it felt to hold on. At the same time Romina realized what she was going to do, her neighbour did too. His voice shook, "N-no. Please don't! I only did it because I needed too, please - please!"

She raised the gun in shaky hands.

"I about to die. Romina you have to understand. If I didn't take that meal I would be dead. My girl - my little girl - my wife! I just needed to see them, I need to see them. Don't do this, have mercy." And as her arms raised and he stared down the barrel of the gun she saw a dark blotch spreading between his thighs and then the sharp scent of piss invaded her nostrils. He was shaking in fear. "I did not know what would happen to you," he whispered, "they just asked me questions and I answered. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please. Please!" He sobbed.

Her brow furrowed and her finger slid to the trigger. "Do it." Strucker whispered behind her.

Her neighbours face were tinged red as the tears slid down his face and tears wracked his body. Her jaw tightened. As he eyes squeezed shut she pulled the trigger. A bang sounded and the flash exploded behind her eyelids. And then there were two more shots. For a moment her eyes remained closed before she slowly opened them.

The shots had missed completely; they were in nearly in every direction but the man she was supposed to shoot. The gun clattered to the floor and she took a step back before her legs gave away. There was a ringing in her ears.

And then the guards descended on him like predators to prey. He didn't stand a chance and resorted to curling up in a ball, feebly trying to protect his hand. His screams began to grow quieter and periodically she could hear his gurgles between punches and kicks. The blood seeped around his body and spread outwards.

Finally the guards moved away and she couldn't recognize him anymore; he looked like a piece of meat. Blood gurgled out of his mouth and he stared at her through the slit in his eye. She didn't move.

Strucker yanked her upwards. "Look at what happens," he hissed as he jerked her arm, "All of that, that is your fault. I gave you a prize, and I gave you a command. You disobeyed me. You disobeyed Hydra. All of his pain, that is only your fault. It is all your fault when you do not obey. That blood is now on your hands."

And then she was dragged away back to the hospital room, the image of her bludgeoned neighbour seared in her mind.

-0-

The image of her neighbour drawing in his last, staggered breaths was haunting her. Yes she had felt betrayed and hurt and even angry. But she hadn't wanted him to die like this. Romina understood him now. If she had a family to return to she might do the same. And she knew the desperation of hunger.

But she hadn't wanted him to die, not like that. It was her fault, all her fault. Strucker was right. If only she could have killed him without the blood; if he could just have dropped dead, no mess.

Romina sat leaned up against the wall, one knee pulled up and her arm resting on it as she waited. Her neighbours death had taken the fight out of her. It had taken everything out of her. He had feared her as she held that gun in her hand, ready to take away his life. And she had. Not the one Strucker had wanted; she failed him, and her neighbour.

She didn't even need to be told what to do as she followed behind a guard, eyes downcast as she made the way to the Kill Room (as she had heard some guards nickname it).

The door closed behind her and she saw only Dr. List. He motioned her for her sit on the chair with a tight smile.

"No, you must lie now." He told her. She obeyed.

He walked over to the reclined chair similar to ones at dentists and began to secure her wrists to the chair. He tightened the leather, pinning her wrists down. As he made his way to her ankles he began speaking, "It is pleasant you survived the Terrigan Mist. The survival rate is awfully low. We are still figuring out why, but how nice it is to be able to successfully test your hypothesis. Now I am going to proceed with the scepter. If your predictions are right, you have nothing to worry about."

She didn't need to hear him answer her mental question _and if I'm wrong?_ , she already knew that answer.

He came back towards her carry a scepter, and it was stunning. "Now just relax." He said. Her eyes were fixated on the weaponry, or whatever it was supposed to be.

The staff itself was gold plated and layered, with intricate carvings running up and down its sides. Although it looked golden, it was a foreign metal she could tell immediately. But what her eyes were drawn to immediately was the cube trapped between two metallic tongs attached to the golden hilt.

Calling it the Cube was wrong, she reasoned. It looked more rounded. The blue hue illuminated Lists face, and it seemed to flow and pulse like it had a conscious, constantly thinking and reacting. The colour seemed to ebb and retract back to the central source.

Romina became so fascinated she barely even registered List standing right by her side. "Now relax, this will hurt a little."

And then the tip of the scepter hovered right above her forehead before dipping down. The second it made contact the effects were immediate.

Her teeth clamped shut and her back arched as her limbs strained against the restraints. But her eyes remained wide open as the entire universe flooded her mind.

She saw everything and nothing. There were hundreds of millions of worlds, with billions upon billions of inhabitants. She opened her mouth to scream - too much, it was too much. She saw every star there was, bright and twinkling, red hot and fiery; she saw them come to be and she saw the explosion as they died out. She saw the darkness in the universe that filled every crack and corner.

And the voices. Each individual voice soft; some calm, some sounding hysterical. But together, the billions of voices became a roar, the mad angered humming of whispered cicadas nearly deafened her. They were all around her, and yet they were all in her head. Billions of voices, billions of universes and worlds, billions of people. She saw them all. And she saw nothing. And every emotion. Romina screamed. She felt every life form. She felt the desolation, she felt the anger at seeing loved ones dead, felt grief over morning, felt humiliation and loss, felt more happiness than she had ever known, felt pride, felt terror - felt everything. A billion forms with thousands of emotions, some she couldn't even begin to describe.

And as all of scepters powers flooded her mind, she still couldn't close her eyes. She saw the world around her, she saw Lists fascination. His eyes had turned into sparkling garnets. The grey ceiling had taking on such a vivid grey it seemed to become a shining silver. The shadows had become brighter. Everything had become brighter, as if she was watching through a TV screen where all of the colors had become overexposed. Her head exploded, her eyes bulged. Her entire body had become fire, as hot as the molten corner of the center of the earth. Her throat closed up and only a whine escaped.

And then she blinked. The heard the whirring of the lights above - she had never heard them before. She heard the squeaking of the wheels from the bed she was being transported in. She heard hushed whispering. And then she was in the hospital room, she vaguely thought.

She didn't remember getting from List to the room. Her mind had stopped functioning. There was only everything to think about. But all of a sudden it had faded. She couldn't remember anymore, she couldn't remember what had happened. Only the feeling of being so overwhelmed she could t speak, couldn't think, couldn't breath. Her eyes flitted around and occasionally she blinked harshly.

Someone had stepped in front of her. Their mouth was moving, but no sound came out. There was an angry humming in her brain; it felt like her whole skull was vibrating and her brain had evaporated into ash. A hand moved in front of her face, right into her line of vision. She blinked harshly again. The glint from the ring was too bright, like staring straight into the sun. The hand was nearly glowing, and around it formed a halo like ring of bright sanitized light.

She remained on the bed, wide eyed and staring off into nothing. Occasionally a hand would reappear and she felt her eyes grow wet. Then the hand disappeared.

By some point she couldn't discern she began to feel again. She wiggles her toes, she moved her hand, she licked her lips. Every touch, every movement, felt too sensitive. It hurt. Romina tried not to blink, feeling her senses too heightened as her lashes brushed against her cheek.

Oh she couldn't remember what had happened. Yet she could, vaguely, but she didn't want to remember. She thought of Alexandra's reaction. She understood it now. It was too much. It was all too much.

And then she was off again, she barely even registered and List touched the sceptor to her forehead again. She wanted to cry, wanted to beg for death, but that wasn't an option - it was quickly forgotten as what could have been and what will be overwhelmed everything else.

She saw the past, the present, the future possibilities all at once. There were too many. Too much of everything.

Too much had happened in the past: all the pain, the glory, the useless actions, the things that could have been that were destroyed, the relationships and artifacts and histories of a billion different life forms. She felt everything as it happened, felt every atom moving and shifting in the universes. She saw every possibility that could happen; felt every marginal shift in someone's movement or behaviour offer up a hundred million new futures and it began again every millisecond for every life form as all of their fates crashed and collided and swirled with each other. Everything was connected and yet nothing was. Everything had a future and a fate and yet everything was simply determined by minuscule actions of billions.

She heard it, the stones hum, soft and loud at once. It was its own life form too, and there were other out there, it's brothers and sisters all with their own tunes. She felt the stone. It felt her. She felt the stone, as apathetic and cold as nothing she had ever known wrap around her. She felt it ebb into her mind, into her body, into her soul. And she was powerless to do anything. Powerless to even move as she felt it consume every atom in her body.

She was gone again, the humming fading as she saw the hospital ceiling again. And then she was back in the room, she heard people, noises, voices. They sounded far off and she couldn't register them. "With all due respect Dr. List, we need the subject to rest before we continue with trials. It has now been fifteen days. Every other subject had already been terminated by day fourteen. It would be wise -"

"Silence! I do not care about being wise nor cautious. Volunteer Seventy-Eight has survived until now. That means the subjects assessment has been correct, and trials will continue."

"The subjects vitals are weak. If we go through another run with the scepter, it could be her last."

"Did you not hear me? Trials will continue. If you don't agree, you can leave. Now."

Silence followed.

\- THE KILL ROOM -

The doctors gathered around the subject armed with clipboards and pens. Dr. List touched the scepter to the girls forehead, and the results were similar to every other subject before: back arched, eyes wide and unseeing as their eyes filled with the blue hue; the colur seemed so deep it was like staring into an endless shining ocean. All of her muscles tightened as she strained against the bindings. At day fifteen she hadn't even seemed to register the change in rooms. They had switched her from the bed to the restraining chair with ease as she remained unresisting. It was creepy, seeing the whites of her eyes as they were wide and nearly unblinking, staring off into nothing. Her lips seemed to tremble, almost as if they were moving so fast it was discernible what she was saying.

The beeping began to pick up and some of the scientists began to murmur to each other as they saw the subjects vitals flying off the charts. Dr. List was too ambitious, too impatient. They watched as her heart rate continued, soaring, until it got too high. Dr. List seemed shocked as the body fell onto the table; an elongated beep was the only noise that filled the room. He pressed the scepters tip harder into the girls forehead.

She remained unmoving, eyes wide and unblinking. The light had disappeared like the switch of a light the second her back hit the chair. His head whipped around, "What is happening? What happened?! Fix it!"

Swallowing, one of the doctors moved forwards. The doctor already saw the long flatlining of the heartbeat, saw the rest of the vitals and yet . . . There was a desperation. They had come to far, worked so hard. It was disbelief that drove the scientist to place to finger to the pulse on the subjects neck. She couldn't be dead just like that. He couldn't believe the state of the art technology was correct. Surely it was just a fluke.

And yet . . . He pressed his fingers harder into her scorching hot neck. Finally, he shook his head and made eye contact with Alexander Pierce who had flown in just to see the first success of the scepter trials. "Volunteer Eighty-Seven deceased. Time: eighteen hundred." He said quietly.


	10. Metamorphosis

Dr. List rubbed his fingers against his temples as he sighed again. He was near the corner of the room, far away from all scientific commotion. He had come so close, everything has gone so well, and then - just like that. Volunteer Seventy-Eight, one of the last volunteers was gone. He didn't know if he could risk the death of the twins now.

They were a rarity and as such as he wanted successful trials for all of them. With such similar DNA seeing the differences and similarities in response to the Cube would prove most interesting. Yet here he stood, debating whether to ask Pierce for a new wave of subjects (which would certainly prove too suspicious with Shields already suspicions), or go ahead with the twins. He could save the Maximoffs for last. If anyone would survive, it was those too. Just thinking about an Enhanced version made him giddy.

Someone called his name again and his head snapped up. "What?"

"Dr. List I think you must see this . . . It's urgent."

With a sigh he walked over to the computer monitors. He saw the recently deceased Volunteer Seventy-Eight lying in the hospital wing. Clearly it was old footage as she was still alive here. "Yes?" He prompted.

"Just look at the subject." The scientist pointed at the screen.

He waited an entire minute and was about to snap at the man in exasperation when he saw something happen, but it was over before he registered.

The man played back the last few seconds. There appeared to be a small glitch in the camera; the girl disappeared for half a second.

"OK play it back, but with the infrared camera." And so the last few seconds played back again. The glitch preceded.

"Is there a point to this?" He asked.

The scientist nodded with excitement, "Just keep looking."

And so they played the video next with heat signature. Everything else in the room seemed fine until the subject glitches again. And then he leaned forwards slightly, "But that cannot be possible only she disappears." He muttered.

The scientist nodded and turned around with a wide smile, "That's because it's no glitch. She goes undetected for half a second."

"Are you telling me she teleports?" He snapped.

"No! Look at the blanket, the pressure on the pillow. She's still there, but she becomes invisible - there's no scientific way to say it, but that's what's happening. The subject is virtually undetectable by heat identification, infrared, ultra violet, X-Rays - everything, basically."

Lists eyes widened as he finally understood. "It worked then. She became Enhanced." He whispered. Then he swore. He had less than a minute before the subject was throw down the chute - retrieval was nearly impossible. His hand rammed into his pocket and yanked out the phone. Quickly he called a number, "Do not dump the volunteer. Bring them back at once!"

List paced the room was he waited for the subject, praying to whatever Gods existed that they hadn't thrown her down the chute. It was one of the longest waits in his life; he nearly drove a hole into the ground as he circled with room.

He heard the wheeling of the bed before he saw it and relief flooded his veins. There was the subject. She was unnaturally pale and he already began noticing the affects of the Cube, but she was there. "Hook her up to vitals, get the defribilator ready, and someone find me a shot of adrenaline. Now!" He commanded.

The scientists nearly ran at his orders and the murmurs rose to near shouts as the room broke out in a flurry of commotion. Volunteer Seventy-Eight was brought to the middle of the room and in only a few minutes was hooked up to everything. Still no pulse was found.

A female scientist looked at him uncertainly, "Dr. List-"

"I don't want to hear it!" He snapped. "I want to hear nothing at all unless it is about bringing the volunteer back to life, understood?"

The doctors nodded hesitantly. The defibrillator crackled as it surged with electricity. They ripped open the flimsy night gown and brought the metal plates downwards. The body jerked with a shock. Then remained unresponsive. "Again." He demanded. They brought the plates down again. The body jerked. It remained unresponsive.

He yanked the needle out of someone's hand and then rammed it straight into the subjects chest, he pushed the fluids into the subjects heart, perhaps too quickly. Yanking the needle out he motioned for the women holding the metal plates. "Again!" They pressed the plates to the chest and the body jerked.

There was silence. And then a ragged gasp rang through the room. The subjects eyes fluttered open.

ROMINA

Her eyes opened with a shock. She saw a dozen men and women. Lab coats. That was the lab coats who killed her friend, Alexandra. She saw one of the men. It was always the men. Fury coursed through her and she howled in rage as she twisted onto her side and her hand shot out. Her slim calloused fingers curled to looking savage like and she bared her teeth at the scientist who had murdered her sister. She wanted him to die.

The man looked at her curiously for a second. Then he stumbled backwards clutching his stomach, looking confused, "Its nothing just - oh." And then he fell into his knees and doubled over with a gasp. A pained sound left his lips. Two scientists knelt down and rushed over to him.

He coughed and came into all fours. He looked up in bewilderment; his eyes were bloodshot and his face was reddening with every passing moment. He coughed again. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Soon he fell onto his side with a small twitch.

There was the small jab of a needle in the side of her neck and then her hand slumped into the table and her eyes fluttered shut as she was forced back to sleeping.

Dr. List laughed in delight. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first successful test subject." List then looked at the man on the floor, "and get him to the hospital, monitor his recovery. I want to know what our first Enhanced has done to his body."

LATER

For a week now she had been hooked up now to various tubes. For the first few days she was barely allowed any real substance, it was all given to her through the tubes. As she began getting meat back on her bones, she began getting real food. Not the kind she had been given over the dungeons over the months, but real food. All of the rations were controlled of course, but she got fresh vegetables of all kinds and real meat. Every time she got something to eat she wolfed it down in seconds, terrified they'd take it away from her. She felt like a dog.

It had gone fast. What should've taken weeks for her to look like a normal human being again took days. It was as if she had never been starved.

They told her that, although fleeting and weak, she had powers. Multiple types. They said she could turn invisible - she didn't believe them. They said she could shut down someone's organs, in fact she had done that severa days ago - she didn't remember that. And not just that but her cells had become extraordinary in their ability to heal her body. That one she was beginning to believe. The twisted mass of flesh on her leg had disappeared, as if she had never been stabbed at all. All of the wounds and cuts that had littered her body had disappeared, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished. Except, of course, the cut on her face remained. She had whimpered when she saw herself for the first time. It wasn't just the cut . . . The experiments had turned her into a freak. The looks of horror or skepticism she received from the doctors treating her told her as much.

They had warned her before handing her a mirror. The cut on her face was broad, deep and jagged, smaller cuts criss-crossed into the valley of the deep diagonal one, indicating how badly it had healed. It was hideous. The scar was still puffy and the dark red glared back at her; some day it would turn into a deep, shining white.

But there was her hair too. White strands ran through the curls, as if she had aged a hundred years. Her hair had become peppered with them, starkly contrasting the dark curls.

But the first thing she had noticed was her eyes. Immediately her old ones connected with the new in the mirror. The left one was as it had always been: brown. Yes she could see the damage through the full color, she could see the horrors she had endured, but it was the right eye that had caused her eyes to widen in horror. The color was as bright blue and electric as the sceptors own gem. It nearly seemed to glow, as if she could see the power that flowed through her. A 'gift' from the sceptor.

She was a freak. She was hideous. She was a deformity. And yet to Dr. List and Strucker, she was an experiment done right. When she had seen herself in the mirror, it wasn't the old Romina Zuitev staring back at her. This girl was someone new, someone who couldn't even relate to the last life of the Romanian girl anymore. That girl had officially and truly died on the operating table in the cold and cruel room.

Her hands didn't shake as she set down the mirror next to her on the bed, face down. The girl who shook, who cried, who was scared, was gone. Now it was only a hollowness that pervades her mind, only interrupting by brief flashes of burning anger, so hot her vision would redden for a few seconds. She couldn't remember what she was truly furious about. It seemed it was everything yet nothing at all.

Strucker came in then, and tossed her a black garment. "Put that on. It's time you attend a meeting, and then it's timing for your training with a special friend of mine."

Slipping out of bed she threw the only thing that shielded her from Struckers eyes onto the floor. He blinked in surprise. And just as she grabbed the thick black material he strode over to her and grabbed her face, tilting it upwards. "You're different." His eyes flitted between her two colored ones. It was the first time he had seen her since the experiment. Romina remained silent.

"What do you remember?" He asked.

"Everything." She replied.

He narrowed his eyes. "And when I tortured you? When I drove the knife into your leg? When I strung you up? When I broke you? How does that make you feel?"

Romina didn't even blink as she answered him, looking back at him evenly, "I deserved it. I disobeyed Hydra, and I disobeyed you. My torture was a consequence of my lies. To break me to build me up again was a necessity."

His eyes narrowed in disbelief. Then he whipped out his knife and grabbed her arm, jerking it upwards so she could see everything about to him. Romina didn't flinch. Strucker pressed the knife into her skin, just below her wrist, his eyes trained on her face, scrutinizing every reaction. Slowly he began to slice across her skin. Blood ran down. Her brows furrowed in pain but there was no more.

Finally he lost the battle and his own eyes looked down. The blood had stopped running. He threw he knife into the bed and then ran a finger on the wound. Except it was no more, the skin had stitched itself back up. "Incredible." He murmured. "They were right. These healing abilities are unparalleled. Not even Captain America has this speed." And then he seemed to gather himself, "Now put it on and come along. Pierce won't want to be kept waiting. And List is nearly peeing himself with excitement like some puppy."

He had never spoken so . . . Well, he made conversation like she was a friend. She obeyed him silently, slipping into the black suit. It was a material she had never felt before, it was thick and tough but had an incredible amount of flexibility. It had the same cut as a swimsuit nearly. Her collar bone showed, and her entire arms were free, her legs from mid thigh down were bare. Romina followed Strucker into the meeting room.

A circle of chairs had been set up in a wide circle. Behind them were white boards covered with algorithms in all different colors. In the center of the circle was a small block.

With a gentle push on her lower back she followed Struckers suggestion and went to stand on the block, arms slack by her sides. Those who sat on the chairs or near the white board quieted down as they saw the subject step up.

Dr. List strode over to her and marveled at the first successfully subject, "look at this! In just one week. You!" He snapped at a low level employee, "get the projection running now."

And in mere seconds was a hologram of Romina standing next to the subject. It was looking at the Romina from now and the Romina from the past.

She didn't realize how truly thin she had been. Her hair was limp and her face haggard; her curls were nearly straight. Bones poked out from all angles and her skin was taught. Circles so dark they seemed black were etched into her face below her drooping eyes. Someone could easily wrap their hand around her leg and have their fingers touch.

The Romina now, the newly enchanted looked different. This one looked like a deformity, but worlds healthier. Gone were the dark eyelids, her curls were springing corkscrews again and shone under the light. Her face had filled out and while still thin as her model-like body was, she looked healthier.

Dr. List pointed between the two bodies. "The hologram of the subject on the right is from just seven days ago, right before the successful experiment. Our Enhanced - the first successful trial - has shown remarkable changes in the past few days."

"And not just that. But incredible healing abilities." Strucker added as he came up behind her. He lifted her arm high above, as if showing off the prize to the world. Then he dragged the knife across her skin.

A few seconds later the blood healed. Strucker grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket and scrubbed the skin clean. "A few seconds after the wound and the Enhanced is already healed."

Murmurs rang through the Hydra members as they looked on. One of them spoke up, "Yes I've read the file. Ability for fast healing, ability to shut down the organs of others, and invisibility. Now that is all something that we need to delve further into, of course. But that's not my concern here . . . Look at her," the man waved his hand, "that thing cannot go out into the public. How on earth is it going to blend in?"

"What will be using the Enhanced for?"

"The subject apparently had animosity to other future candidates, am I correct?"

Many voices rang out at once.

Dr. List clasped his hands behind his back. Strucker looked at the group and smiled, "The animosity is correct. We plan on using be same mental techniques we used on the Winter Soldier to ah, focus the subjects mind on the important things. As for what to use the subject for, Director Pierce if you will?"

Pierce stood up and smiled at the group. "Yes the Enhanced has shown a remarkable set of skills. They are quiet and lethal. They are the skills of an assassin. To go into a room undetected and kill a target with no bloodshed? They can be in and out of there while any guests around them is simply thinking is a heart attack." He clasped his hands together as he walked around the block, like a shark surrounding its prey, "What I propose is that we put the Enhanced with the Asset. Simply put, she will be a Complement to his abilities. The Complement with the Asset with make a lethal force, that will certainly over take Shield."

One of Hydras chief officers seemed to mull the proposal over, "Yes I suppose that could work. The Enhanced can turn invisible after all. No one will need to see their physical deformities."

"This may very well suit our aims." Another Hydra member added, "We can take down the Avengers one by one. How can Tony Stark fight back when he's too busy battling lung failure?"

"And once the Avengers are no longer a threat, our inside members will bring down Shield from he inside with such breathtaking force they'll crumble in mere minutes." Pierce said.

"Well gentlemen, I believe we can all get behind this plan. With the speed of recovery the Enhanced has already shown, and with Crossbones training, I believe we can set up the Complement to the Asset in mere weeks."

The men gave their agreements to the plan. One of the men who had been silent, wearing a suit spoke up, "And what about the other subjects? When will they be ready for utilization?"

Dr. List seemed to be debating the timeline for a moment. "The first set of twins, subjects A and B, will be put through trials this week. With the success seen with Volunteer Seventy-Eight here, we suspect that the first set of twins will be able to show their abilities within two to three weeks from now."

Pierce nodded. "Good luck with the trials then List. Now, I need to catch a yet back to Washington. Gentlemen, I wish you a good day." He nodded as he picked up his briefcase.

TRAINING

The door closed behind her and she looked at the man staring in the center of the room. She moved towards him. His hands shot out and he shoved her, she went crashing onto the ground. Romina didn't stand a chance.

He placed his hands on his hips, looking unimpressed. "Alright Kitty-Cat. Stand up."

With a scowl she hoisted herself up to standing. He grabbed a piece of flesh on her underarm and waved it, "You feel the muscle there? No? 'Cus neither can I, kitty-cat. No way can I train ya if you can't even hold up a gun or hold your own during a fight."

"Sorry, I have been busy being tortured and locked in dungeons." She replied in English.

He smirked and released her, "Looks like the kitty has claws. Alright freakshow, let's start the training."

"Tell me what to do." She said.

He grinned. "Now there's a winners attitude. Just listen to what I say and try to keep up."

She stared at him for a moment, and finally asked, "Who _are_ you?" She had never met anyone in the castle with such energy. Nor anyone who treated her as a human.

He did a mock bow. "Name's Crossbones, darlin'."

"And you will teach me how to . . . Fight?"

"Oh I'll be doing so much more! See, I consider myself an artist - a true craftsman who specializes in murder, destruction, and terror!" He replied with joy.

"Oh." She replied.

And then he lashed out at her. She went flying into the ground. He walked over to her and stretched out his hand, "Rule one, freakshow: don't ever let your guard down."

She got up again. And thus she began learning all of Crossbones many rules of fighting. Sweat trickled down her back and made her hair cling to her neck. At the end of many hours of training she had not one bruise or cut left on her body. But she could feel the soreness in her muscles as she hit the bed, eyes already closed and feeling exhausted. It hadn't even registered to her yet she was more than human - not when Strucker had made her feel less than.

TWO WEEKS LATER

She stood in the familiar room with Crossbones, holding two long arching knives. Strucker stood at the side.

"Got admit, doc, she's the fastest I've ever trained. No kiddin' she's Enhanced! Her muscle memory is incredible. Teach her it once and her body just picks it up." He grabbed her upper arm and squeezed it, "last week just meat on her bones. Now she looks like she's been heavy fightin' for at least a year or two. Whatever time line you got, I think you can shorten it."

Strucker seemed annoyed by Crossbones, but he nodded his understanding. "Hm, it must be every time there's a muscle tear her body replaces the muscle fibers at a rapid pace. Instead of days they repair in mere seconds, allowing faster growth."

There was silent. Finally Strucker said with a sigh, "Well, will you show me the progress?"

"Oh yeah, right." Rumlow replied.

He swung out his blade and before Romina realized it herself she blocked his attack. She hated the fighting, mentally she couldn't keep up but it seemed she barely needed too; her body responded automatically. He jabbed out again and she blocked.

This went on for five minutes before he stopped and took a step back.

Strucker nodded. "Yes, but that was all defense. What about attacking?"

Crossbones shrugged, "We'll get to that. Just tryin' to find her favorite weapons, and getting her defense up to speed. She's gonna be Complement for the Winter Soldier, she better be at his level. And then I'll teach her to attack."

Strucker nodded. "Very well. Romina, I need to talk to you. In private."

Crossbones slid his weapons back in their holsters. "Remember, keep your defenses up at all times. Just 'cus you'll be leavin' this room, don't mean the fighting's over. There's always a fight."

She nodded. As Crossbones shut the door behind him with a clang, Strucker strode over to Romina. "You're fighting has improved much, Volunteer. But still, the Cube has changed you." He pursed lips, "The first set of twins, A and B, have already gone through the Terrigan Mist."

"And what happened?" She asked. At this point they should already have been touched by the Cube.

"The boy died in the chamber. The girl made it to the Cube. She died shortly after her first trial. We will move on to the next set of twins. Twins K and L."

Romina nodded. She wondered if it was Pietro and Wanda Maximov. Apparently Strucker knew what she was thinking. "It isn't the Maximov twins yet. . . But Matthias was right to raise concern, Romina. You are a liability right now. If the twins make it through, how will you work under this organization with such a troubled past with them? There have been some suggestions to kill you, or lock you up. But I had another solution. Why not just give you some mental reprogramming? It is only temporary." He assured.

Panic made her heart flutter briefly. She needed to remember them. His hand traces her scar. "And this may go away. I do not believe it is permanent, not when everything else healed. I think this is psychological. If you do not want it to heal on its own . . ."

"But I do! It is hideous."

"Then come with me."

Romina followed him. She held onto her belief that it was only temporary. She didn't ask him how long 'temporary' was.

Now she was settled into the chair. Strucker adjusted the arm guards that held her down. He went to go click a button. "Remember: order only comes from pain." And then a dark harlo went over her head and tightened around her skull. She screamed as the electricity passed through the brain.

She didn't notice every memory disappearing. She didn't feel the pain lift as her parents and brother disappeared, as the Twins and all the pain they had caused were ripped from her memories.

The electricity lessened and she heard a voice floating through the pain. "Gargoyle. Creator. Port. Seventy. Truck. Shadow. Hazmat. Painting. Eight. Desperation."

Her eyes squeezed shut. The voice repeated those words. And then everything went away. The guards released their strong holds on her and she stood up.

The girl saw three men standing there. One with red hair. "But this works only periodically on the Winter Soldier, are you sure this is permanent?"

"Yes sir." The man with the one eyed monacle which seemed to be embedded into his skin replied. "I have already been conditioning her from the start and she went free-willingly. Those are two things the Winter Soldier does not have."

The red headed man nodded. "Fine. This is the last time I will be visiting, it's getting too risky. I believe some members of Shield are getting suspicious; I'll keep them off this trail as long as possible, but make sure your work is finished soon and that everything remains under the radar."

"Of course, Mr. Pierce." The man with the jacket replied. He watched the man go before turning his attention back to the girl in the chair. "My name is Baron von Strucker. Today, you will be called Nadine. Your name will change whenever I say so, and every time you will invent a new detailed backstory that will hold up when someone investigates you. Do you understand?"

Nadine nodded. Strucker smiled at her.

* * *

A/N:

Its been 10 chapters and thousands of words of Rominas backstory but next chapter the story officially picks off! To everyone who has silently been following and favoriting, probably waiting for some Avengers/Twins action, it'll happen next chapter.

And I know I may have been pushing it with the whole defibrillator/adrenaline shot thing into the realm of movies (and I do try to keep this story as realistic as I can, granted theres the whole aliens/superpowers elements), but the plot had to move along somehow.

Thank you BerbDCat, honestly without you I don't think there wouldve been this many chapters uploaded in a very, very long time (read: ever). Comments are nourishment for this writer, so congratulations on keeping this story running, heh. When I reading the 'dumping the body' part I was just thinking "why didn't I think of that?!". But alas, I took a different route - but smart guess, you've been spot on with a lot of them so far . . . which means I'm either a predictable writer or you're really smart . . . I'm hoping for the latter.

I guess I can tell you about my imagined sceptor lore since its not an integral part of the story. I just have it that because all of the gems are connected and theyre part of space/a dead space entity (which is marvel lore), that they basically know everything, hence theyre so powerful. Thats why you could begin seeing shifts in her personality, just like what happens with Wanda and Pietro in the movies. I mean granted Wanda has a lot of powers so that doesnt help mental stability. But in my lore the gems are too much for mortal minds and 'breaks' them a little bit. :) But all of her powers are cell based, which of course will be explored in later chapters. I hope her powers so far don't seem to all over the place or over-powered because that (at least) not my intention/

-Rickety


	11. Samsara

A/N:

I admit this may be the chapter I have been most scared of writing and publishing. I debated releasing it, but what happens at the ending really does further the plot, so I've kept it. But PM me if it's bad and I will be taking option B while bowing my head in shame. (No the rest of the fic wont be looking like that).

Thankyou for the new favorites and followers!

* * *

The music thrummed through her bones and the lights, blue and green, flashed across the clubs nigh8t floor. Women swung their hips and men twirled them around. Red painted lips glided across glasses filled to the brim with alcohol as their eyes flitted coyly to the men watching them at the bar, desperate to strike conversation.

Nadine walked across the floor, deftly moving around sweaty bodies as she made her way to her target. She was dressed in a blood red skin-fitting mini dress; she strode swiftly across the club with sky high black heels. Her hair was loose and flowed behind her shoulders.

There. Her eyes locked onto the man with silver hair. He was sitting in the VIP section, surrounded by women and men holding whiskeys and rums. They were in dressed in suits. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his body guards scattered around, hands clasped in front of them as their eyes scanned the club. All she had to do was get close to him and, once next to him, she could stop his heart.

As her leg moved forward suddenly everything changed. The muscles in her body contracted as the electricity coursed through her and everything locked into place; Nadine went crashing onto the floor. The music stopped and then the room went dark.

The light was jarring as the eye mask was removed. She blinked rapidly. Rumlow pocketed the taser and gave her a look that said _what goes on in that head of yours?_

He sighed. She waited until she could move her body again and got up slowly. "What?" She asked through gritted teeth. Did he have to taser her every time she did something wrong? _There is no order without pain._

"If you're acting like a predator, your victim will respond like prey." Rumlow told her.

She dusted off the dress, then looked down at the thick set of glasses in her hand, the one that could transform an entire room. It was like being immersed in a video game. "You told me to kill the target."

"Yeah, kill him. You think that's going to happen when ten body guards trained to spot killers get a hold of you? He'll be out of there before you can blink." Rumlow replied, twirling a pistol in his gloved hand.

"What? You think he will reject me with this dress on? I dress like girl who wants to fuck. You think he would say no?"

"Jesus kitty cat, it's like I gotta teach you everything. Look, trainin's over for the next few hours. Get back to the little onesie you wear and go learn about blue prints and spy shit - or whatever the fuck they're teaching you right now."

Nadine bit back a reply. She wanted to lash her hand out but instead curled it into a fist, keeping it stiffly at her side. It was true, she was going to be using the next few hours learning about the security access panels and codes to Shield, and other top official and unofficial government buildings. Then she would spend the next few hours at target practice, honing in on various cells and vital organs and stopping all cell reproduction. She'd watch them fall and flounder - or cough blood - before the painful high beeping filled her ears and she stopped. Nadine couldn't be angry at Rumlow or she'd lose her focus.

Instead of lashing out she gave him a curt nod and turned sharply on her heel, footsteps echoing across the room. As her hand wrapped around the door handle Rumlows voice rang out, "And change the dress next time, you're lookin' like a slut."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked over her shoulder , "That terminology was invented by men to control women. I can have just as much control over my body as yours. Really, when was last time a man ever got called slut for making his own decisions?"

Rumlow rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, whatever Feminist Fiona, just change the fuckin' dress."

She turned to leave but then she was overcome by anger and she whipped around. "And when do you decide someone is slut? From the first man she fucks before she is married? When she has fucked the second? The third? The fourth? When she wears a skirt you think is too short? When a button on her blouse has come undone?" she spat, eyes blazing. She began walking towards him, "is it when you thinks she has flirted with too many men - and what number is too many? Who are _you_ to decide? When do yo-"

"Careful." He interrupted as he whipped out a blade and stopped a hairs width from her throat. He had become serious now, though the ghost of a smirk that seemed to be perpetually there never left. "Think you're overstepping boundaries, darlin'. Now change the dress. You don't have to give a rats ass what I think, but those men you're gonna be seducin' later on? They need to see a girl who's classy but willin' to cross over to the wild side. You dressin' like some lower class bitch desperate for chump change ain't gonna fly, not with Hydra."

Her jaw clenched. "I know men like that. Once they see a woman who is piece of meat, then she cannot object, no? An object has no say."

"You're gonna do whatever you need to for whatever god damned mission you're given. And hey, in any other case the trainin' will come in handy won't it. Now go change. Find something." He barked.

Seeing red she slammed the door after her. Her nails dug into her skin, hard enough to pierce skin. It healed immediately. She heard footsteps coming her way and immediately her emotions shifted to dread. No one could see her be emotional. If she did Strucker would seek out punishment for her. To be an assassin was to have no emotions.

Reflexively and before she was even conscious of it the feeling of a tar-like substance began dripping down and flowing over her body. It ebbed out until the cool feeling covered her entire body. She threw off the dress and heels just as the footsteps rounded the corner.

The two scientists, a man and a woman, halted by the clothes thrown hazardously across the ground. Their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. They thought better of saying anything, too busy with more important matters. They stepped over and around the clothes silently and continued onwards to their destination.

Raising her arm she turned it around curiously. There was a filmy layer covering every inch of her skin like a glove that reminded her of a stove top leaking gas. It seemed to move and flow closely to her skin in the same manner.

And yet under it she was fully visible, at least to her own perception. She had learnt it would be a great asset to, well, "the Asset." Everyone else saw nothing. It was as if, when the heavy layer was complete, she disappeared to the world. Nadine quite liked it. Finally she became No One.

And then her skin grew lighter as the gas seemed to evaporate. At the end of the day she never truly disappeared. The tracker was still under her skin, placed there from before she could remember. She stood there, nude in the hallway. Quickly she gathered her clothes and stood behind the small walk that had been placed to given her privacy to change.

The Complement walked down the hallway in silence, eyes dull as she walked. Her hair was in a loose ponytail now. The small black clothe that covered the lower half of her face shifted with each breath. It had been given to her after she had been given the name Nadine. Strucker said the others were uncomfortable around her with her 'unique' features. She was sure he really meant monstrous.

As she walked she came to a stop, curiosity peaking. Inside a glass cell was a man. He seemed to be around her age. He had a mop of white hair and dark stubble. His hair was so similar to hers that she took a step closer.

He was hunched in a corner, muscled straining as he glared at the ground. And then before she could blink he was staring at her. More specifically at her eyes. She didn't even have time to react when she heard a thud and he was huddled in the adjacent corner. Her eyebrows knitted together as it took her brain a few moments to process.

She moved around so she could see his face. "You are one of the experiments." She stated in English. No matter how hard she had been training to hide the Romanian accent, it still came through.

"Da." The man replied hoarsely. His piercing blue eyes connected with her for a fleeing moment before narrowing as he seemed to concentrate on something; he nearly bore a hole in the floor.

So he was Sokovian. She recognized the accent well. "You are the first to survive." He didn't reply, seeming to be in pain. "If you cannot control it yet you must be weak." She sneered at him, anger rearing it's ugly head at him. She wasn't sure why, but looking at him . . . Just looking at him behind that glass. She was glad they were seperated; her fingers twitched as her head lowered, while never breaking eye contact with him. Red began seeping into the corners of her vision.

"Weak?" He spat, "We are the first to survive."

Before Nadine could reply there came a blood curdling scream from the cell next door. The words were incoherent at first, strung together so fast it was almost as if the screaming girl was screaming in tongues. With a detached curiosity to why the girl was screaming Nadine forgot about the man and went to observe.

A girl with long brown hair was writhing on the floor, clutching her head. Her fisted hands held strands of her and as another scream erupted she yanked. Strands of hair were fell to the ground.

"The voices!" She cried out, "make them stop! All of them! It's too much, it's all-" and then red energy pulsed from her body and hit Nadine, sending her flying against the wall. She slid down with a thud on her side.

Groaning she rolled into a sitting position. The girl had quieted down now, to a low muttering, repeating the same string of words rapidly. She sat curled up, arms wrapped around pulled up legs, rocking back and forth and staring wide eyed at nothing.

Right as Nadine brushed herself off as was about to leaning, muttering a string of curse words at the two experiments the girls head snapped to the door to stare at Nadine with wide eyes. Something tickled the edge of her memory. A horror movie?

The girls voice was raspy from all the screaming, "You think of me as a horror movie." Her head cocked to the side, and she stared at Nadine, eyes wide and unblinking as she froze.

 _I don't know what to think of you_. She thought.

"I don't know what to think of you" The girl said in a monotone.

 _What is happening?_ she thought, eyes widening in alarm.

"What is happening?" The girl said.

Nadine scrambled to get out of there, feeling the hair on the back of her neck prickling. The experiments eyes trailed after her. That girl wasn't natural. She wasn't human. Nadine hurried down the hallway until the screams became fainter and fainter until eventually, they quietness down.

-O-

"Sera, where did you come from?" A random woman asked. It had been happening more as of late. Random men and women in the castle would bump into her, and whatever name she had been assigned - whether five minutes ago or a day ago - she'd end up getting interrogated. Some where as sickly sweet as honey. They were the most dangerous. They reminded her of Strucker. She answered just as sweetly. Until she messed up the more questioned they asked, the more they expected her to trip over her own facts and stories. Others came out of nowhere, full of anger and intimidation. Those were easier for her. She never failed the angry ones. Never failed the ones who threatened her with torture or death. Sera - Nadine - Tara - Ashley - Dania - whatever her name, was used to pain. There was no pain without obedience.

Sera smiled at the women whose mouth was in a hard line. "Oh from America. Just over here visiting."

"Hm. What state?"

"Colorado."

"Town? It's population? How long have you been there."

"Bullsworth, and born and raised, ma'am. And oh the population, not quite sure. Think it was around seventeen-thousand and something last I remember?"

The women looked her up and down. "So why are you here in Sokovia?"

"Well I'm a journalist student, on last year of Bachelor. Got real interested in communism so I decided to write my thesis on the split of Sokovia and Romania due to clashes of politics between the two regions."

The women raised her eyebrow, "so you came here alone - you are to tell me you go to no university here?"

"Of course I do! Sokovia State University." She replied smoothly, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. The women had the look they all did when they smelled blood; when they found a weakness in her story.

"And so you speak Sokovian?" The women replied in Sokovian.

"I - uh, what?" She asked, remembering she wasn't supposed to speak anything by English.

She switched to English, "Surely you speak the language of the course you're currently studying. As far as I'm aware there is no English track." The sentences came rapidly as she cornered Sera. She had to think fast; her mind scrambled for a way out, for a foothold.

Sera forced a laugh and shook her head. "I get asked this a lot. Just this year they opened up a study for international exchange students in 2012. Good they finally got around to it, huh? It's a shame not more people before me got to experience this culture and is amazing food!"

"Firstly, Complement, it is "it's" - you make that mistake you give away the fact you're not American. Secondly, you could do better. But to the average idiot I'm sure they won't ask further. Work harder - oh and Sera? You can't be visiting if you're also studying here, can you? Sink any lower and you'll have to reminded of what's at risk." The threat was clear. And then the women brushed past her, ignoring her as f they had never spoken.

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she watched the random women walk away. Everything had her on edge. If it were possible for her to gain circles beneath her eyes she was sure they would be there, as dark as night.

Recently she had taken routes to bypass the twins. She had visited twice after, hesitant but curious. Now she steered clear of them, that girl made her hair stand on end.

After the first eleven days they had their beds moved into the same cell. The girl had gone from hysterical screams to a deafening silence. They had thrown in cubes and other objects for her to train with. As for her brother, the only training he needed was learning how to stand still and slow down. His impatience made it much harder for him to learn to control his abilities. The girl just sat, seemingly almost detached, as the red mist swirled around her and made her eyes glow. Internally the Complement recoiled at the girl - Wanda. The Complements entire body told her that girl was something that shouldn't have lived. Yet here she was.

Crossbones was waiting for her when she came in. The Complement picked up two of Hydras Bagh Naka's. She slipped the glove like weapons onto each hand. As the curled her hands into fists the spiked shot out with a ' _shing_ '. They glinted under the dull light.

Crossbones cracked his neck. "You're really taking a liking to those things. Think we've finally found your favourite weapons." Then he winked. He made a motion with his fingers for her to come to him.

She shot forwards and leapt; immediately he blocked her and threw her behind him. She rolled into a ball as she hit the floor and came to stand up again, whirling around. And so they began a fierce battle. Finally she was beginning to keep up with him, at least in speed.

She would never beat him in strength. And she was sure she wouldn't be able to beat the Winter Soldier in strength either - not from the stories she had been told about him.

But what she lacked in strength she made up for in speed and agility. She twirled around him and parried, ducked, and struck when he was vulnerable. At least whenever she got struck she healed fast.

But as his onslaught got heavier, more aggressive, she felt the urge to seek cover. And then the tar like feeling poured over it, similar to a cracked egg on her scalp. It oozed down and coated her skin as she fought. Crossbones laughed. "That only works if your clothes and weapons actually _disappear_ with you."

She fought onwards. She might not be completely hidden but she saw still there was hesitancy, no matter how minuscule. He wasn't used to this.

And through some stroke of luck she had him against the wall, the tip of the claws at the jumping pulse in his neck. He chuckled. "Look at you, finally getting better." And then something about him shifted.

He relaxed his stance and the Complement narrowed her eyes. She felt his hand brush against her waist, a light caress. It was the intimate kind, the one that was affectionate, meant for lovers. Instantly she recoiled and then the air whistled as she was spun around with lightning speed and slammed against the wall; the air left her lungs. A knife was held at her throat.

"Jesus Freakshow! I thought you were getting better than this. Little intimacy that fuckin' terrifying?"

The Complement snarled and shoved him away. "I'm fine!" She jerked the weapons off her fists and threw them onto the counter next to the other weapons; they clanged against each other.

She then stalked down the corridors feeling restless. What Crossbones had done made her recoil in fear and uncertainty. But now that there was more distance something had been stirred inside of her, she realized. And she was desperate to quell it, whatever it was. Licking her lips she made her way down the corridor when the bracelet around her wrist lit up. Strucker wanted her.

Sighing she walked so fast towards the computers room she nearly ran. The Complement ran a hand through her hair. Finally she got to the room with the scientists. They became quieter as she entered, as they always did. It nearly seemed to be instinctive. She wondered if the way she felt about Wanda was the same way they felt about her.

Strucker beckoned her over and she stood in front of her, back as straight as a soldier. "Yes, sir?" She asked.

"I think it's time I show you something." He turned around and pressed his hand against the stone door. With a groan it opened up like a door. She followed him down the windows stairs.

Her jaw dropped as she saw how big the place was. However big the castle was, the basement was larger. And it wasn't just the size, but the monster that hung limp above the room, hanging on hundreds of steel wires. It's gaping mouth was facing her. A scepter was also there, and a bright blue orb stuck in a crab like claw was attached to the staff. It pulsed as she looked at it.

"We acquired quite a large amount of alien artifacts after the Battle of New York - this Chitauri monster included. Though, fascinating as the research it has provided us with is, that's not why I called you down here. You've shown remarkable improvements, not just in physical capabilities, but your loyalties to Hydra. So I have a little present for you." He handed her something wrapped in paper.

Hesitantly she opened it. Inside was a pair of gloves. The material she recognised, though she forgot the name. It was thin and flexible, yet nearly impenetrable. The Complement slid them on; they went up to the top of her forearms, and left her fingers bare. She wiggled them and turned the gloves over, observing them.

"Do you like them?" He asked. She nodded. He gave a smile and a nod, "they're made out of Vibranium. Including the claws which will stay hidden until you curl your fingers, causing enough pressure for them to shoot out. I wouldn't want to be your target." He smiled.

The Complement curled her fingers into fists and watched as the curved claws shot out. She swung downwards in one long arc and watched as the wooden board got an entire chunk ripped out of it; the blades had cut through so smoothly she barely felt the resistance. Good weapons, indeed.

He tapped her hand and immediately she flipped it over. He tapped again and her fist sprung open. He traced a circle on her palm and she saw a faint blue glue in response. "You don't just think we thought of your fighting, did you? The scientists have worked hard on these the last few weeks. These gloves are specifically designed for you, my little success. They focus your abilities so you can effortlessly hone in on your target. Before your powers went all over the place; now that all of the energy can be focused on your target you'll be worlds most efficient. And worlds deadlier."

She looked at the gloves and then gave her nod of understanding. "Thank you for the gift."

"I think it is time you receive a name. It is true you will be the Complement to the Asset . . . but the world knows him under a different name: The Winter Soldier. I have thought of giving you your own name for a while but struggled, and now, finally, I have found it. I have been with you from the beginning and watched you fall and rise from the ashes. I see your powers as they have the capability to go through the cycle of life, from birth until death. Your gifts, your path, it's almost mythical. And so what better a name would suit you than 'Samsara'?"

Samsara. She heard never heard of the myth before, or mythology surrounding the name. But she liked it. Samsara and the Winter Soldier.

"Now I expect something in return. I want you to make me immortal." He said.

Her eyebrows shot up. "I - I don't think I can do that, sir."

"Nonsense!" He snapped. "If you can have your own cells in a constant state of regeneration then surely you can do the same to me."

She stilled at this new information. "I'm immortal?" She whispered.

"You can't be surprised with this information surely. You're healing powers are unparalleled thanks to the genetic shift in your cells. You heal so fast there's no time for any DNA deterioration over time. Now focus." His voice dropped low as he looked at her, "and stop my cells from deteriorating."

The Complement swallowed. She didn't like when Strucker looked at her like that. Lifting both hands she aimed her palms at him. Her finger began curling as she felt herself connect with his cells. But this wasn't just one specific part of the body, it was everything.

She felt his life force, felt every cell multiplying and dying. She could feel the blood that pumped through his system and the contracting of the individual cells in his lungs.

The Complement strained as she felt her powers ebb into his entire system, fusing into everything. She felt the pressure building inside of her as she twisted her hands, forcing the cells to stop their deterioration. And then it happened; it felt like a roaring river had suddenly stopped flowing, as if a damn had dropped halfway down the water flow.

The Complement stumbled forwards and her hands went onto her knees as she fought of be black dots swarming at the edges of her vision. "Is it done?" He whispered, his voice full of impatience. The Complement nodded. Strucker laughed in delight. "Look at what we accomplish together! Look at what Hydra can accomplish. This really isn't the age of superheroes and villains anymore. It is the age of the Enhanced."

-O-

That odd giddy feeling from Crossbones hadn't left yet. And it certainly wasn't made better with the strange ache inside of her, like joints building up with pressure that needed to be released. She could feel Strucker and she felt his life force straining against the cap she had put on it. It needed release.

She needed release.

The Complement dumped all of her clothes on the bed she had been assigned. This was a separate wing to everyone else, reserved only for her. There were some other rooms, with the same set up as hers: a bed, a cabinet, and a small bathroom.

As she finished her shower she tugged the underwear on her wet body, not bothering to dry. She enjoyed the irritation. Needed it. Wanted anything that she could focus on that wasn't that need, hot and urgent and desperate. She didn't even know what it was and she hated herself all the make for it. How could she be the great Complement for the greatest assassin alive if she could not even analyze her own emotions?

As was habit she placed the black clothe back on her face. Strucker had promised her a better version, one that would look like the Asset's mask. Crossbones had whistled at the news, said their targets would piss their pants in fear as they saw two masked assassins with eyes that lingered with death come upon them. She didn't understand, nor did she really care. She didn't think of the future, and the couldn't remember the past. All she had was the present and Struckers instructions.

The Complement strode into the desolate looking kitchen. There was only a small sink with two porcelain cups and a metal table that was propped against the wall adjacent to it.

Filling up the cup she turned around and leaned against the table, about to take a sip of the frigid water when she blinked to see the man in the room.

It was the experiment. He wore a track suit. She wondered why he got to wear leisure clothes while she had to wear training garb day in and day out.

His hair was wind blown from the speed he had just run at. His chest rose rapidly and his pale cheeks were dusted pink. She set the cup down behind her. She saw aware of the water that dripped down her hair and onto her bare skin.

"I see they've finally let the experiment out." She said, breaking the silence. She felt anger at seeing him again, but there was something else, something that was burning.

"Too bad they didn't keep the bitch in." He replied.

Her eyes narrowed and she straightened, pushing off the table finally. The distance between them seemed too great to her. But the room was too large for only the two objects, she reasoned. "You stopped visiting."

"You were boring."

And before she could react he had nearly collided with her. She could see the light sheen of perspiration at his temples. The Complement didn't even have to blink before he had straightened himself. "And now? Do I bore you?"

The air seemed to become electrified and she licked her lips. It was rare she found someone the same height as her, but he was level with her and staring straight into her eyes. And then he took a step closer so that only a sliver of space remained. The Complement swallowed and then her hands shot out and gripped onto the lapels of his jacket; his lips were on hers and the force of his speed sent the small of her back slamming into the table; the mug spilled and rolled over, shattering on the floor. She hissed at the pain. He lifted her up onto the table and her hands tightened into the jacket, jerking him closer. There was no time to think. She didn't want to.

His lips left hers and she was glad - it was suffocating. It was _intimidate_. She didn't want that. But she needed this. Like an animal. That's what Strucker had told her she was, acting on instinct. It was only with Hydra that she could follow orders on how to act, on what to do.

A sound escaped her throat as his lips trailed down her neck and his hands gripped her waist. Impatiently she fought to get his jacket off of him. She scowled as it fell to the floor and revealed a black hoodie underneath, and underneath that was a red t-shirt. What was he? A Russian doll?

Scowling she yanked the zipper down and shoved the sweater off. She heard the tear as the back of the bra was ripped open - it fell onto the table.

His hand went to his breast and she felt something hard press into her thigh; the Complement went to take his shirt off but before she could even touch it, it was off, flying across the room behind him. He seized her close and she turned her head away. His stubble scratched her cheek.

She jerked his pants downwards; her panties were ripped in the same impatient manner her bra was. As his hand left the back of her hair he moved at lightning speed, jerking her arm and nearly ripping the bone out of its socket - she yelped in pain.

But the pain was quickly replaced with need as her cells fixed the tears. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her and she gasped at the sudden motion. And then their hands were everywhere in a frenzy and the table rattled.

She could barely keep up with him. The searing hatred returned from its unknown source. She scratched his back with one hand as the other dug it's nails into his neck. It only seemed to spur him on. She bared her teeth in anger.

She hated herself. She hated him. She wanted more. He was taking. She wanted to take too. They were both satisfying their own needs, both releasing the pent up emotions they had stored here in the castle. And both couldn't care less about the other.

Her hand went to his chest and as she went down to feel the ridges of his stomach her hands clawed again and raked downwards; a guttural noise left his lips.

And then there was a pause where his head was bowed and as always, between one blink and the next he was gone. Pausing for a moment she stared at the door, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was gone.

Swearing she slid off the table. Her head shook rapidly as she tried to shake away the memory of what just happened. Swiping her fingers down her thigh she flung off the remnants of the aftermath and stalked towards the bathroom.

She jumped in and let the icy cold water shock her system and wash away everything that had happened between them. The first need had been dulled. Gritting her teeth she ran her fingers throw drenched hair. What had she just done? _Animal._

The water pooled at her feet before sliding away down the drain. Goosebumps had broken out across her skin as the freezing shower continued to pelt down on her, but she refused to make it warmer, refused to take a leisure shower. She had understood the emotion now and felt ashamed. The Complement, Samsara - whoever she was - was supposed to keep a cool head at all times. Her reaction towards Maximov was the stark opposite of that. She wanted him. She also wanted to tear him limb from limb for unjustifiable reasons. The Complement didn't know what she wanted.

With a sigh she turned off the shower and patted herself dry, jaw still wound tight. Still, the ache of desire had disappeared for now. She would do whatever it took to destroy the feeling from resurfacing.

But the ache of keeping Strucker immortal stuck. Some time later when she had slid into bed she stared at the ceiling. She had been tossing and turning trying to close her eyes and drift off but she couldn't. The longer she stopped Strucker from, well, growing, the more it hurt.

Not a sharp pain, but the kind you got between joints. The kind that desperately needed to be released through a crack.

At two in the morning she couldn't hold it any longer. And then it felt like a crack; it was nearly audible. The power came back to her and she sighed in relief. The feeling of pressure, of being stretched too thin, was gone. When her eyes slid shut, they didn't open again until the first sunlight. She thoughts about a million ways to tell him she had failed. And a million ways of punishment.

* * *

A/N:

Firstly, I know Bagh Naka's are the weapons worn on the palm/inside of the hand, but I had it hydra modified. So think more like wolverines claws.

I hope the last part wasn't extremely cringy. I usually stay away from things like that, namely I because I have little interest in it. But plot is plot.

Hurricane'97: Your review made me laugh. Then got me stressed out, so here's a chapter written decently fast!

3rd: Thank-you! I appreciate the review so much. :)


	12. Information

_A/N:_

1) Sorry its been so long! Life happened, but i will be updating more frequently now. Need to get this story done.

2) Im going to issue a little apology about the last chapter. I had wanted the pietro-romina relationship to be sudden, but I didnt make the transition smooth enough so it became jarring and out of place. i will go back and edit and maybe even add a filler chapter in so make that seem a little more natural. but i wont take it back.

* * *

 _Outside thick fluffy snowflakes swirled towards the ground in a lazy manner. Outside it was twilight, but inside the second floor apartment was brightly lit with Christmas lights of all sizes. A steaming mug of tea was placed on the table next to a pile of books. The man who set it down kissed his wife on her temple; she smiled in response._

 _"The little monkey has to go to bed now." The women said._

 _The girls head snapped up and she froze like a deer caught in headlights. The stuffed raggedy bear she had been placing with dropped onto the pile of other stuffed handles. "Mama no!" The girl cried. Penella gave an amused smile. "Oh? Is that so? It's not like my little monkey to protest going to bed."_

 _Petru barked a laugh and began walking over to his five year old daughter. "And why wouldn't she be protesting, my dear? Romina doesn't need sleep - ever. Isn't that right little monkey?"_

 _Rominas eyes widened in innocent and she nodded her head rapidly. Romina wasn't ready to sleep. The story wasn't finished! Mr. Fuzzle hadn't married Miss Cheechee yet!_

 _"Mean Mama says you need sleep anyway. And then tell you what? You can invite a friend over tomorrow after pre-school."_

 _Rominas lip pulled downwards into a frown. That wasn't the answer she wanted. Her shoulders slumped as she crossed her arms. Papa knelt down in front of her. "Is my monkey angry?" He asked._

 _"Yes." She spat, looking at her father with all the fury she could muster._

 _He gently jabbed her belly. "Now?" He asked._

 _"Yes!" But her resolve was already deteriorating, as much as she tried to keep it strong. She knew this game._

 _His fingers spread over her stomach, poised to attack. He leaned in as if telling her a secret for her own ears only. "Tell you what." He whispered. "If you can keep from smiling, you can stay up the whole night."_

 _Her lips wavered before hardening them back into a straight line. Her eyes narrowed at the challenge. And then her father dug his fingers in and began tickling her._

 _A muffled sound escaped her lips as she writhed under his attach, trying to escape. And then she broke into full peals of laughter. Her papa grabbed her on her side and hauled her upwards so she was horizontal, being supported on his hip. "Say goodnight to mama! 'Goodnight mama!'" He mimicked, carrying her towards her bedroom._

 _"Night my little one!" Mama called before turning the next page of the academic book. Her other hand was coiled around the warm mug._

 _Romina was lightly tossed onto the bed. "Well! Goodnight!" Papa said with a small knowing smile as he began walking away._

 _"No" She cried. "Story! I want it!"_

 _He cupped his ear and leaned towards her as if he hadn't heard properly the first time._

 _"Please." She added._

 _Her threw her a big smile. "Well since my little mountain goat asked so nicely I can think of one. Scoot over." He said as he tumbled onto the bed, like a log falling onto the ground. Romina quickly dove out of the way. Papa fluffed her pillow and settled her under the covers. He folded his arms behind his head. Papa looked at her to see she was paying attention before flashing her a smile._

 _"This story is about the wolves and the sheep. Are you ready?" He asked. Romina nodded, looking at him intently. His round glasses with the thin frame reflected her purple room in them. His peppered mustache seemed to have grown more wiry over the months. The loose grey shirt he wore had a curry stain on it._

 _"Well you see, there once was a wolf called Mr. Grey. He lived in a castle and he had a lot of land. He used to have sheep he would hunt and eat, but over the years as each new winter came there were less and less sheep on his land. Mr. Grey could not understand it. Where were they all disappearing to? He had lost them. Now he was going to find them. So Mr. Grey put on his cape and took a bag of food with him and then began his journey. He walked over hills and through forests and across rivers. Still, there were no sign of the sheep. Where could they all have gone too? He travelled day and night until he saw a big castle. It was so big it was said to hide even the sun. Mr. Grey decided he wanted this castle, so he set out to find who lived there first. Mr. Grey knocked on the door. To his great surprise, a sheep answered the door!_

 _"Do you live here?" Asked Mr. Grey._

 _"Why yes I do!" The sheep said, but he didn't trust Mr. Grey. Because Mr. Grey was a wolf and the man knew the wolf just wanted to eat him._

 _"May I come in?" Mr. Grey asked._

 _"I'm sorry, but I don't let wolves into my house." The sheep said._

 _Mr. Grey knew he would say that. So he nodded. "That is fine. Is it possible to get some food for my journey home, sir?" He asked. The sheep nodded and went to fetch food._

 _Mr. Grey knew this would be easy to take over the house. Sheep were weak and scared. He would eat the owner of the house and make this castle his. He gave a toothy smile at the thought._

 _While he was waiting the wolf turned around to survey his knew future lands that would belong to him: the king of the castle!_

 _And then he became very, very still. Because as far as the eye could see, white dotted the land. There were hundreds upon hundreds of sheep! They were all here._

 _The sheep came back with the food. Mr. Grey turned to him. "This, all of these sheep are yours?"_

 _"They do not belong to me. But they are my army." The sheep said as he looked over his lands, "I give them protection and they will fight for me. So if you are thinking of eating me, that won't be possible."_

 _"I would never even think that." Mr. Grey lied. He took the food and put it into his bag, "Thank you for your kindness." He said._

 _"Have a safe journey." The sheep said as he closed the door._

 _"But why can't the wolf just eat the sheep anyway? He is bigger and stronger." Romina interjected._

 _Petur tapped her on the nose. "Listen, monkey."_

 _"And as Mr. Grey walked away from the house, he did not take the path that would lead back to his castle. He hid in the woods. He understood now. To take on a few sheep was easy, but to take on this many wasn't possible, for there were strength in numbers. So Mr. Grey would need to learn how to control the flock, and become king of the big castle. So he began to gather all of the fallen wool of the sheep. He picked and picked and picked. Finally, he began to make a coat. He dressed himself head to toe. As he went to the river be looked at himself and saw a sheep staring back at him in the water._

 _Happy with how he looked he began to put his great big plan into action. He walked to the flock slowly. But when they looked at him they did not look scared. For he was a sheep now. So he followed the other sheep and learned to talk and act like them. He learned what to do to get the castle. But as the next winter came, he was still a sheep. Mr. Grey to himself it was because he was still learning. And then the next winter came. Mr. Grey walked with the sheep. He looked at the castle. And another winter came. Mr. Grey ate the grass. He did not look at the castle. And so came the next winter. The king of the castle walked amongst them. "Is it true one of you is a wolf in disguise?" The Sheep King asked._

 _And he asked it to each one. Them he asked Mr. Grey. "Are you a wolf in disguise?" He asked._

 _Romina gripped onto the bed linen, waiting for an answer._

 _"Mr. Grey lifted his head and said: bahhhh. Then he went back to grazing on the grass. Finally The Sheep King went back up to his castle. There had been no wolves hiding in his flock. The end."_

 _Rominas eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and then she looked at papa in mild disdain. "But the wolf was right there! Why did he do nothing? Why did he keep pretending he was sheep, papa?"_

 _Papa smiled. "Because the wolf forgot he was not really a sheep. He became one of them because he forgot who he really was. Always remember, Romina, that you are a wolf. Sometimes you might have to pretend to be a sheep, but never forgot who you are. You will always know who you are, in here." Papa pressed his palm against his beating heart._

 _Romina gave a growl just like a wolf in response. Papa smiled and nodded. He bent down and kissed his forehead, "Goodnight my sweetest girl_."

-0-

She stood with legs crossed leaning against the wall. Her hands were resting inside of the brown vests pockets. Hidden under the vest was a belt strapped around her waist. On each side were two holsters with pistols snuggly nestled inside. Her hair had been braided.

The training clothes were gone it would seem. When she walked into her room there had been others laid out for her: a black turtleneck, the brown vest, black pants, and combat boots. Someone she hadn't seen before braided her hair and gave her an earpiece. Further instructions were to come.

"Samsara!" Strucker barked as he rounded the corner.

Instantly she straightened up and yanked her hands out of the pockets. "Sir!"

Pietro was there as well, slouching with hands inside a sports jacket. For once the Semsara and the Maximov boy looked equal in clothing. She nearly flinched at the defiance of her own thoughts about how glad she was they seemed to be equals right now. The Semsara had orders to do, freedom of thought was means to get supposed she was extra paranoid, extra precautions after her previous dalliances with the boy. It had come out of her nowhere and seemed unstoppable, as if all of the cells in her body were fighting the obedience instilled in her.

The boy leaned against the wall, seemingly uncaring about as Struckers authority. The Semsara had guessed why for a while now. The freak of a girl could read minds, it was intrusive and it hurt. At least, to the Semsara it did. Others didn't seem to notice at all.

Strucker couldn't control the girl so he had to rely on her cooperation, because she was the important one, not her brother. It meant the boy couldn't be hurt either. Strucker ignored him as he faced the Semsara.

"I have a mission for you today. Pietro will escort you; it will be good for him practicing to walk and act in normal speeds. You will meet with Colonel Helmut Zemo. He is part of Sokovias intelligence agency. Let him tell you what he knows. Do not say anything about our operations here, do you understand?"

She nodded in response.

Strucker seemed satisfied. "Good, then be on your way. Observe as much as you can, map the city as you go."

"Yes sir."

"Remember Maximov, you will escort the Semsara to Caffè Roșu. After you'll head straight back."

Maximov didn't reply verbally, only his head tilting upwards indicating her understood. "And you," he looked at her, "will come back as soon as you are done."

"Yes sir." She said.

Strucker took a cell phone out of his pocket and strode out of the room. Two guards dressed in casual militant attire, their heads uncovered. "Follow us." One of the men said. The Semsara instantly deduced they were unarmed.

All four of them walked in silence until they got to the giant metal doors out of the castles entrance. With a great groan the double doors were pulled open and sunlight hit them on the face. Their breaths came out in white puffs.

The Semsara and Maximov headed down the winding castle road in silence. The cobble stones were rugged and uneven beneath them. Weeds stuck out between the cracks.

"I remember how ready I was when I began walking up these stairs, waiting to change the world. It's been a long two fucking years." He said.

The Semsara remained silent, looking in front of her as she walked, eyes flitting over the landscape. Her hand was already twitching, ready to use her powers or weapons or both at a moments notice.

Crossbones had said it was good, that she needed to be constantly alert at all hours of the day. But she was sure his ability to interrupt her sleep with threats and weapons to her throat put her in a constant state of paranoia.

She wasn't even sure if she was even sleeping anymore. Any little noise had her eyes flying open and a gun pointed towards the source. All she felt was tired, tired to her bones. Like she was treading water and barely keeping her head up, split seconds away from sinking underneath the waves to the bottom of the each. But like any survival instincts she kept treading, kept mentally treading until she couldn't fight the exhaustion anymore and drowned.

"I always love on talks." He said sarcastically.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I mean, it's OK all you want to do is fuck me." He said as they reached the bottom. "I know I look good. And you would not be the first."

"It has only been four times, do not flatter yourself. And that is what we are calling it now? You are done so quick I don't even know if it counts." She said; her hand flew to her gun as someone crossed the road. She didn't even notice his sneer.

Just a civilian. A man with a thick leather jacket and black hat on, clutching a tote to him as if someone would steal its contents any moment. Not a threat.

As they walked further into town and the streets became narrower and more apartments sprung up she likened the small town to a war zone.

Parts of bricks walls were holed; the memories of bullets. Posters that were stacked on top of each on the walls and waterlogged dropped downwards, threatening to fall off the walls.

Graffiti was spray painted everywhere, mostly in blacks and reds. There was no art to it and little thought. Just angry scrawls of writing that showed the despair and frustration of their poor nearly forgotten city.

Several shops were boarded up with signs like "closed forever" hanging on them.

"Pietro? Is that you?" A girl said.

The pair whirled around and the Semsara reached for her gun. A girl in a dress and stockings stood there. Her forest green trench coat was wide open. The girl had curly black hair that reached her waist and a curvy body.

Almost immediate his stance changed to what the Semsara could only describe as cocky. A lazy smile spread across his lips. "In the flesh, beautiful."

The Semsara snorted a gust of air. With a squeal the girl launched herself at Maximov. He picked her up and spun her around. The Semsara tried to school her features from the disdain she was feeling. Who the hell was she and why was he letting her interrupt their mission?

They separated slightly. No kiss. So they weren't partners. But their body language suggested they had fucked before. Probably many times. Maximov had probably fucked the entire town. At least she was immune to STD's. She wondered if he had finished as fast as before he an Inhuman.

The Semsara tuned out their babble for a while; she ignored that girl like the girl was blatantly ignoring her. Though it was only a look of blatant horror had passed over the girls face had she decided the Semsara was no threat and promptly went about giving her full attention to Maximov. He seemed to be basking in it. The girl ran her hand through his hair as if it were some kind of fucking fascinating miracle. While she tried to ignore their conversation she listened out for any keywords that could be suspicious. All it seemed to be was compliments and flirtations.

Finally after looking at the small electronic watch she had on, she decided after the glaring orange numbers jumped again that two minutes was more than enough.

"Maximov." She snapped at him.

He waved her off. The girls eyes flitted to her before rolling her eyes and focusing back on the boy in front of her.

Glaring the Semsara's hands shot out; she kept them low, near her waist. Her fingers curled and her hands began to twist.

Instantly the girls hand shot to her scalp and her eyes squeezed shut. "Ow." She squeaked.

"What's wrong?" He asked, voice laced with concern as he stepped closely.

The girl shook her head, "Nothing - just a migraine - I think. I should get going. I'm glad you're back." She gave a pained smile and turned around, quickly heading out of the alley.

Before the Semsara could blink she was off her feet and then her back hit the alley wall. She hit it with such force the stone cracked and the felt her teeth clack together. The air left her lungs. Maximov swam in out of her focus as he clutched the vest and shook her.

He was yelling at her but his words seemed distant. Sooner than she would've liked his words seemed to break the surface and became clearer. The Semsara blinked once, twice, three times and then he swam back into focus.

She fought him off and shoved him backwards. "You can't just use your powers out in the open like this!" She spat. Her head was throbbing; a warm tell-tale trickle of blood told her she would be seriously concussed for the next few moments.

"You didn't seem to have a problem using powers on Mia." He hissed.

"Maybe if you hadn't lost focus of our objective the human wouldn't have been hurt." She snapped.

"I used to be human!" He roared, eyes flashing in anger.

"But you're not anymore. You'll never be like them again." She replied. There was no malice in her voice, only fact.

That seemed to subdue him a little. He quieted down and turned sharply away from her; he began walking down the steep alleyways road.

The anger still radiated off of him in waves. The Semsaras eyes never left his tense back as she walked behind him, ready for him to disappear in a split moment. He turned and shoved the door open to a small shop nestled between two tall, lean buildings. Like everything in Zebreva it looked centuries old; the charm had decayed long before the building.

She followed him, the small bell rang for a second time. The chipped wooden door closed behind her with a small gust of air that had papers inside fluttering. Immediately the smell of stale tobacco enveloped her. The room was cloudy with cigarette smoke hanging in the air. Light filtered through it from the old ceiling lamp covered with a green glass cover, giving the room a slightly every glow.

It was nearly impossible to move around in the shop without knocking over something. To call it the size of a bedroom was nearly generous.

Coming from an old banged up radio which looked like it had been around since the eighties, a scratchy version of Rebel Rebel played softly. It was perched precariously on the edge of the counter next to an old cash register which seemed to have survived the Second World War. It was a stark contrast to the high tech that Hydra kept.

On small tables of different sizes and colors - though all equally banged up - were stacks of cigars. Behind the counter were rows of cigarettes of all different brands.

Maximov leaned towards on the table with arms crossed. The women paid him no mind, still with her back to him. She reached up, standing on tiptoes, pushing more packs onto the shelves.

Smoke drifted around her. If the Semsara had to venture a guess, she'd predict the women was in her eighties. She was a short stocky little thing. Her flowered dress, which looked like they had been cut from curtains, reached her mid-calf. Underneath were tan pantyhose.

Her white hair was in a tightly wound bun. The silver chain that went around her neck suggested there were a pair of glasses hanging on in the front, probably thick spectacles.

Maximov tapped his fingers against the scratched wooden counter impatiently. "Yes, yes, I'm coming in a moment. If I stopped what I was doing to help every impatient customer I'd never get anything done."

With a long heavy sighed he turned around and rested his elbows on the counter, he tossed his head back and closed his eyes in exasperation.

The Semsara looked down at her watch. "We have nine minutes to be there." She impatiently pointed out.

Opening one blue eye he regarded her; the anger seemed to have disappeared. "Well I know Zebreva. You do not."

Her jaw tightened. Yes, she was well aware of that fact. The only thing would be to continue giving him control of the situation and hope to meet Zemo on time. If not she'd make his head explode. Her lip twitched. Maximov closed his eye.

It hadn't gotten any easier, how fast he moved. One second he was facing away from the counter with eyes closed. The next he was facing the old lady again and leaning forward. The Semsara resisted the urge to tackle him right then and there for insubordination.

Order came through pain. Maybe Maximov needed a little pain himself. Or a lot.

Finally the women turned around. "Piet - that's you?" Her eyes widened and she cursed, "You! Boy! What have you done to your hair! Turn it back this instant!"

The Semsara felt the barest twinge of amusement as she saw the woman berate Maximov. The women hadn't noticed her yet; she stood mostly hidden in the only shadowed corner behind a stack of cigars.

"Gran Oana! Calm down! You haven't seen me after two years and this is the treatment I get?"

"When you return with hair like that you do." She replied with disapproving glare. She knew Maximov had no more relatives, so she assumed it was a title she had been given by the towns civilians.

He shrugged. "It was the experiments; cant help it."

"Experiments?! Pietro! Did they feed you? Tell me? How are you, really?" She commanded, placing her glasses on the tip of her nose as if enhanced seeing would make the force of her glare stronger.

"Well I've never looked better." He grinned.

"Yes, I can see by your very cocky attitude you are more than fine, then. Even the Lord couldn't take away your confidence." She said with a small shake of her head.

He winked in response.

Oana placed her hands on her hips. "Well, what do you want?"

He raised his finger in a lazy manner and seemed to trace the cartons in whimsical motions. "Ehhh . . . How about the Marlboro? I'm feeling fancy."

Oana went back onto tiptoes and with slight tremors grabbed a pack. She threw it unceremoniously onto the counter. "Money."

He gave a half hearted shrug and a crooked smile. "I'm out."

Her hand began reaching for the cigarettes but with lightning speed he had already taken the pack; he held it loosely between his fingers. She said nothing, but her eyes demanded explanation. He gave her one, in the typical withholding way boys did: "Experiments." Her face changed to convey an expression that said _I'm too old to deal with this._

Oana's brown eyes narrowed. "Boy, I'm letting you go, just this once. But you won't charm your way through another free pack next time."

"Of course I will, I'm a superhero now."

"You're not a superhero yet, boy."

"I will when I fix this city. When I fix our county." He said, sliding a cigarette out of the pack. He twirled it between his fingers.

"Of course you will. Now go - get out and fool around somewhere else."

He threw her another charming smile and a wink before leaving. Oana let out a small sound of surprise as the Semsara moved out of the shadows and was close on the heels of Pietro, not bothering to cast a glance her way. She added nothing of value to her mission.

When they were away from the shops windows, the Semsara a gun out and pointed it at the back of Maximovs head; it clicked as she cocked the gun. "Take me to Zemo. Now." Her voice was soft.

Under Strucker and List's orders no one was to touch the twins. But she wasn't technically touching him.

Maximov tensed. His shoulders hunched together and he ducked his head slightly. There was a small sound, so quiet she almost lost it. Then he straightened up. He gave a small sound of pleasure. Smoke trickled around his face and seemed to glide over his hair before disappearing in the air.

He tilted his head and looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "This - this is fucking good. They say stopping is good for you, but eh, how can it when this feels so much better?"

Furious, she jammed the gun back into its holster. As she went to pluck the cigarette out of his hand he quickly moved his hand out of reach. He smirked at her, but her eyes were on the cigarette. The movement had been so fast it had caused the red bud to flicker.

"Put it out and come." She said.

"We still have so much time. Let me smoke finished - you want one too? Loosen up a little and take the rod of obedience out of your ass?" Her hand flew to the cigarette and quickly he jerked it away. "Come on - I am faster than you, I always will be." Her hand tried to grab it again, but he anticipated it. He was mocking her. Again, again, again, and - out.

This time the Semsara smiled. He was too impulsive; his mind wasn't as fast as his movements. He inhaled and then frowned. Maximov looked at the cigarette, now put out. His lightning fast movement had extinguished the warm glow. The Semsara was able to pluck it from his fingers now. She tossed it onto the ground. "You think you are so fast. But one day, you will not be fast enough. And then you will die."

"You're real fucking cheerful, you know that?" He asked as he followed her down the alleyway. She presumed he didn't need an answer.

Finally he had stopped lingering and had begun to take her towards Caffe Russo. The closer they got to the center, the more trash littered the streets. Decaying banana peels, cigarette butts and packs, trampled into the mud, scraggly weeds that grew where they could, discarded metals like half bent car parts rusted beyond repair. It was a wasteland.

Maximov came to a sudden stop. The Semsara looked to where he was standing. There it was: Cafe Russo. Standing outside was a well dressed man who didn't fit into Zebreva. His clothes, while not that of high luxury, were still richer than most. He had enough money to at least match his clothes. His hair wasn't in messy disarray, nor was it dripping with gel.

"You are Maria Vanya?" He asked. She had to say she was pleasantly surprised to see that the look of horror on his face had only been a brief flash before he schooled his features. There was some civilians she had walked through to get to the center and they had recoiled away from her. Just as they should, she was a monster, and she was reminded of that every time she saw her reflection.

"And you are Helmut Zemo." She confirmed.

"Would you like to get a table?" He asked, jerking his head towards the restaurant. Maria looked inside. It was too crowded. Someone might listen into their conversation. Not to mention the amount of attention she herself would get. If she had to listen to one more child ask their parents what was wrong with her . . .

"It is a fine day, don't you think? Perhaps we can take a walk." She replied. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at the grey sky, ready to open up and let icy sheets of rain or a torrent of snowflakes down.

"Yes, let us do that." He said.

Maria looked at Maximov. "And you will go straight back to the castle?" She asked.

He cracked his neck, "I think I will go for a little run. After all, the weather is so nice." He said mockingly. Shoving his hands into his pockets he turned sharply around and disappeared around the corner.

Maria's head whipped back between they alley and Zemo. Was she responsible for Maximov? Was it implied? Swallowing she decides to give Zemo her full attention; they began walking through the city. Maximov would be long gone by now anyway. But the knot in her stomach grew. Was she really responsible? He had a tracking device installed in his arm didn't he?

She had predicted by the lump and hardness under her skin that they had installed a tracking device in her. It would ensure that not only did she not run away, but that she didn't go wandering into any prohibited rooms.

No, she had to concentrate on her current target, Maximov was long gone now anyway.

"You live here, in Zebreva?" She asked.

He nodded as he side stepped an old, torn mattress. "For now. It seems that your organization has been drawing quite a lot of activity to this city."

"Sorry."

His lip quirked. "Something tells me you're not responsible for setting up shop here."

She didn't reply.

"So the silent type? That's OK, I didn't get to be the Director of the intelligence service by missing details."

"I did not think this was an interrogation."

He gave a small bow of his head and a smile in apology. "You're right, it's not. Come, let's sit." He said as he eased himself into the bench. It overlooked the barren, rolling hills of Sokovia. Far away she saw a small creek passing through the valley.

"The people here have little power, but that doesn't mean word doesn't carry. An international group shrouded in secrecy, settling in a small nearly forgotten town in eastern Sokovia? Well, we've tried to keep the talk quiet, as much as we could . . . You've been paying us handsomely enough." His blue eyes scanned the environment. "But we intercepted someone a few days ago, kept them in a holding cell; they weren't from Sokovia. As a matter of fact they weren't even from this continent."

She raised a brow at this. Was his information of any use?

"He was American. Said he came from a group called Shield." He said and regarded her. He looked away again, "so you know them. I was hoping they weren't a ghost organization. I tried looking them up you see, asked around, investigated . . . He had been telling the truth, and yet, nothing - nothing but shallow bullshit websites. He hadn't expected me or the men to find him, I think. We only got notes and annotations on his observations of the castle. He knew about Hydra. There was something else he was after. A sceptor, one that sounded much more technologically advanced than whatever we have." He looked at her again, "and is that what you'll use to save Sokovia then? A weapon?"

"I'm not authorized to tell you."

He chuckled and shook his head. She felt a small pull of fascination towards the Colonol. His entire face seemed to light up every time he smiled or laughed - it was all genuine. It was foreign to her. His happiness was foreign to her. "Mmm, no, I'm missing something. Unless it is greater than a nuclear missile I don't think it will put us on any negotiation tables . . . And while you've been building schools in Zebreva and helping out the citizens of the town, I don't think that's how you'll be helping us either. You people . . . You're interesting. Secretive. And with shadows comes darkness."

"And perhaps sometimes things are needed to be done, that people don't like, so that the right people are held accountable for their actions." She said. "The path to justice may not always be just." _Hail Hydra._

"Speaking of Justice, my American friend told me something interesting . . . Perhaps told is the wrong word. But there's enough evidence in his implications and observations that this Shield - who seems to have Tony Stark employed - will be paying Zebreva a visit."

"When?"

"Hm, let me just open up my calendar." He dead panned.

She ignored his humor. "Rough estimate?"

"Maybe tomorrow. Maybe within the next few weeks. Have you prepared for this?"

Maria paused. Then decided she could give him some information, it wasn't going to harm Hydra. But as she opened her mouth she abruptly closed it. Fear knotted in her stomach. Why was she given any options to make decisions? How much could she give away; would it be too much? She was Struckers soldier. Maria followed commands, not made decisions. Zemo was looking at her intently.

"We expected this to happen." She nodded.

"And the Avengers are superheroes, aren't they?" He asked. Smart man. She had said nothing about the Avengers but he jumped to it anyway. His eyes were alight, but she knew he was still prodding, still observing and drinking in the information be received, whether verbal or physical. He was a smart man. But Hydra wasn't the bad guys, he would see that eventually.

"They destroyed part of New York, didn't they? They are coming after us because . . . a conflict of interest." She said, toying with the hem of the vest.

His voice switched to a low urgency, "That was the aliens, not the Avengers." He said. She didn't respond; he switched his line of questioning, "Sokovia? Will any of it be destroyed?"

"Not if we can help it, but you shouldn't worry, they are coming for us in the castle. It will be centralized to just that." She explained, feeling nearly nauseous at having to make the decisions of giving him information she didn't know if she had been ordered to give. As she looked at him out of the corner of her eye she saw it did little to ease his worry. Maria turned to fully face him. "You have family here?" She asked.

He gave a nod and slid his arms onto his knees. "Yeah, yeah I do. They're in a house on the outskirts, by the lake." He jerked his head towards the west. Through a small gap in some apartment buildings she saw the dark blue of the glittering lake. It was a huge lake she knew.

"That is a least a few kilometers from town, and even further from the castle, Zemo. Your family will be fine."

"I should take them back to the capital. That is where we are from anyway. What do you think?" He asked, tapping his foot.

"I don't know."

His worry seemed to dull slightly as he looked at her in amusement. "What do you think, _Soldier_?"

"How did -"

"I ran a group called Echo Scorpion. My soldiers did whatever I asked them without hesitation and never with a question. You've looked uncertain every time you need to think for yourself . . . Whoever has conditioned you has done so well."

Maria nodded slowly in understanding. She went back to answering his question, "I think I am just a soldier and you, a Colonel."

He barked a laugh and eased back onto the bench, throwing his arms over the back of the bench. He looked up at the sky briefly. "You evade questions worse than anyone I've met." He grinned. His smile dulled a little as he got more serious, "Im sure you learnt it well - you get many questions about your appearance, I'm sure."

She stared at him.

"Or you force them to retreat by not answering at all."

She gave a half-shrug. He was right. She should be suspicious of him, fearful even. He was intelligence, he was observant. Zemo figured things out about her so fast she could barely blink. But she wasn't suspicious or scared. Maria wasn't the enemy and neither was Hydra. For now he was jovial and confident. He was only gathering wells of information as was in his nature.

She pitied whoever made an enemy out of him.

No, she wouldn't really pity them.

He spoke again. Zemo spoke a lot; he liked talking. Maria didn't mind listening. "Emil has never had a better education than here in Zebreva. I should be surprised that it is your organization who provides it . . . . I think I'll say it is safe. I can't say your are bad, but I have my suspicions if Iron Man and perhaps the others come after your organization. They are the heroes after all . . . Here, I will receive the best pay of my career" he switched topics again, "and get the best benefits for my family. Father is here too. He never wants to leave. Never even been outside of the city." He smiled.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You lived here?"

"For a few years. Then I travelled with my mother into the Capitol. I came to visit when I could. Used to play pretend soldiers in the mountains. It used to be a game, now it has become a job."

Maria nodded in understanding.

Just then there was scream of joy from across the small square. Both of their heads snapped up to the sound. A small boy no older than six came running across the square, a large grin on her face. His dark was flying behind him. He was covered up in so many clothes he was nearly waddling. "Papa! Papa!" He screamed.

Zemo had broken into a toothy smile the second he had heard him. Now he was standing. As Emil came close enough he launched herself at his father and Zemo picked him up and twirled him around. The little boy had such a face full of expressions he nearly seemed a cartoon. His large doe-like eyes, a dark chocolate brown seemed to be drinking in the vast world he was observing. His long, dark lashes brushed against his pale winter cheeks. He was missing two teeth in the front. Zemo held him close and gave him a peck on his nose, "Hello little monkey."

The world seemed to stop. She stared at the small child. The words little monkey repeated themselves over and over again in her head. Something hurt. The world seemed to dull, and everything besides the words in her head seemed to mute. Maria felt like she had been dragged out of time.

"Maria - hey! - Maria, are you alright?" Zemo asked, brows knitted together on concern. She snapped back to the present, back to alertness.

Clenching her jaw she nodded. After a moment Zemo went back to his son. But she wasn't alright, she didn't understand what was happening. Her heart had picked up to a wild rate and her mouth has gone dry. It was like the rug had bee yanked from underneath her but she was still in the dark; no revelation followed. _little monkey, little monkey, little monkey_

"You have beautiful eyes." A woman remarked.

Maria was so taken aback that she physically jerked her head backwards.

Camelia gave an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. I know Helmut is working, but I couldn't stop Emil once he saw his father." She smiled affectionately at her husband and son.

Her voice seemed stable now, "I understand."

A voice spoke next to her, "Im sorry, I didn't introduce myself: I'm Camelia, nice to meet you."

Maria blinked harshly and then turned around. Maria took time to really look at Zemos wife. Standing in front of her was a woman who was traditionally beautiful. Even though it was nearing zero degrees her slender neck was exposed. She had an oval face and her cheeks were tinged red from the nipping cold. Her eyes, though an icy blue, sparkled with warmth. She ran a hand through her hair as she smiled at her.

The most surprising thing was that she hadn't even blinked in surprise as she looked at Maria. It was as if she was looking at a normal, human, stranger. "I'm Maria." She muttered, her throat scratchy.

For a moment longer she looked at her family, and then her eyes slid back to Maria. "Anyhow, I know you two have a meeting so I'll let you get on with it. Emil!" She called in a voice an octave higher as she stretched out her arms.

Zemo handed over his son to Camelia. He slid an arm around her waist as he pulled her in to give a chaste kiss on her lips.

"When's Papa coming home?"

"Soon," he replied, "and when I'm home we can put on Toy Story and eat popcorn... Even if it's not movie night."

"Again?" Camelia groaned.

"Again." He confirmed with a grin. With an amused sigh Camelia nodded before putting down Emil who was wriggling with excitement. He went over and hugged Zemos legs, looking up at his father will adoring eyes and a large open mouthed grin. "Now go on home with your mother. He said as he gently pushed him away.

Emil took her mothers hand and began dragging her home, down towards the lake. He babbled on about a cartoon he had been watching until the voices were carried away by the wind.

Both of them watched Camelia and Emil go before they disappeared down the road. The Semsara looked at the road for a moment longer before turning towards Zemo.

He didn't apologize for his family visit. Maria didn't expect him too. She wondered if that was what all families were like.

"I'll just wrap this up then." He smiled as he got out his cellphone. He typed in his password and swiped through two pages of apps until he tapped a specific one. It springs open to reveal a map. On the map were a series of red dots. "Everywhere dotted is where we've put up posts through Sokovia to check when the Avengers arrive. We have all major roads travelled, under our assumption there will be at least one vehicle. All back roads have sensor checks that will take photos if there's any movements. With the help of the technology you've donated to us we'll be told through the automatic face recognition scans, or the AFTs, if it's one of the targets. Hopefully that'll give you enough time to mobilize and prepare for defence."

The Sensara took a photo in her mind of all of the locations littered over Sokovia. Hopefully Strucker would accept all the information she gathered. "Thank-you."

"No problem." He pocketed the phone.

"And do not worry, everything will be fine. Like you said, the Avengers are the heroes. All this is, is a little disagreement."

He nodded and smiled as he put buttoned up his coat. "I believe you. If I thought this mission was a threat I would not have taken my family here in the first place."

"I know you wouldn't." She answered. It was the truth of it. The Semsara may not be as perceptive as him but only an idiot wouldn't be able to see the love he had for his family. They were his entire world.

"Well that's all I have, do you have any questions?" He wrapped up.

The Semsara shook her head, "No, thank you for your help."

"Have a good evening." He smiled.

She tried returning his smile but found it hard. There was nothing in her that could mimic the genuine smile of someone like Zemo. "You too." She said as she began heading up the street towards the castle.

She passed restaurants that smelled of roasting meats and herbs. As the sun began to set the street lights turned on. She over stepped broken beer bottles as she strode purposefully towards her home. Well, her home for now. Strucker had told her she would be sent all over the world wherever she was needed.

Then her hair stood on end. Something was off. Whipping around she drew out her gun in the same breath and arced it upwards. She was met with the grinning face of Crossbones.

"Hey Freakshow, enjoying your leisure stroll of the city?"

Her eyes narrowed, "I was heading straight back. That was my mission."

He rolled his eyes, "Take a joke, kitty cat."

Her eyebrows rose as she regarded him. There were no times for jokes.

Crossbones lowered her gun for her, "Hide that for now. It'll scare our friends."

"Friends?" She questioned. The Semsara had no friends.

"Well, ya know, not really 'friends' . . . More like guys we're gonna murder. Come with me kitty cat, we're going on your first kill mission!"

* * *

1\. I finally found the correct 's' letter I've been looking for (i know the ones in previously chapters was for another language). 2. I am terrible at chilldrens stories, but I give myself half point for creativity. 3. A little review maybe?


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